The Tale of Civia Potter
by AStudyInTeal
Summary: During HBP. James Potter's twin sister arrives at Hogwarts as the new Potions professor. As she helps in the war Civia finds herself attracted to fellow potions master Severus Snape. But with war eminent Civia & Severus' path is far from easy. Slightly AU
1. Home

**FULL SUMMARY****: **

**In Harry's sixth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the war against Voldemort is not going well. Casualties from both sides are swiftly stacking up, and no one is exempt—Wizards and Witches, Death Eaters, members of the Order of the Phoenix, Hogwarts students, and even Muggles feel the sorrow left behind in the aftermath of the war against Voldemort.**

**Vacancies fill the staff of Hogwarts, leaving only one viable candidate for the cursed Defense Against the Dark Arts position: Severus Snape. In his place as Potions Master, Headmaster Albus Dumbledore finds and convinces someone long forgotten of the Wizarding World to return to Hogwarts: Civia Potter—the heir of the Potter family, aunt of the Boy Who Lived, member of the Order of the Phoenix, and one of the best Potions Masters or Mistresses alive.**

**Civia Potter seemingly disappeared from the Wizarding World nearly sixteen years ago after most of her family's deaths and her infant nephew's victory over Lord Voldemort. Swiftly, she finds her place in the ancient school, as both a teacher and a protector of the students, as well as a place among the staff.**

**Yet while life at Hogwarts continues, the deaths also continue, with someone trying to bring it into Hogwarts. Danger seems to lurk around every corner, and both the Potters are as determined as ever to unmask it.**

**Upon her return, she finds more than just the remains of her family waiting for her—danger, friendship, murder, and maybe even love with the most unlikely candidate, fellow Potions Master, Severus Snape.**

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Hello readers, new and old. In case you haven't noticed (which I'm sure my older readers have), I have not posted much in the past six months or so. This is the reason behind my absence-I have already written and finished the Entire Civia Series, as I'm calling it. The story will be divided into two parts, one in HBP and the other in DH. **

**The Civia Series is fairly parallel to the real plotline, and only slightly AU, as Civia affects things of course. **

**If you do not know, I have posted a trailer for the fanfic on youtube, with the link below. I made this myself, to the song "Hand of Sorrow" by Within Temptation-a beautiful song that is eerily similar to Severus Snape's life. **

**Link: http:/www . youtube . com / watch ?v= fu4haGTkegk**

**So, please leave a rating or comment. **

**Well, now presenting:**

**The Tale of Civia Potter  
**

**

* * *

Prologue **

"_**We create our fate every day we live." **_

**Henry Miller**

A soft knock came from the door to Albus Dumbledore's office in Hogwarts.

Outside, the sun had met and passed its zenith, slowly beginning to set, though the August evening was still well lit and pleasantly warm. An enjoyable breeze came into the capacious office through a window, bringing with it the slightest scent that hinted at a coming thundershower.

From the desk, the Hogwarts Headmaster cheerfully said, "Come in!"

The door opened, and a woman stepped into the office. Had it been during the school year, one might think her to be a student, perhaps as young as third year. The young woman was barely five feet tall, but it complemented her petite frame. She was slim, with tiny features—nearly bony wrists, slim, delicate but precise hands, a slight waist, round hips, and a modest, but suitable, bosom. Messy, jet black curls, which had escaped the plait down her back, framed a thin face, which emphasized sharp, high cheekbones and small, straight nose.

Hidden behind slim, rectangular glasses, which looked as if they belonged to a librarian, were a pair of piercing, keenly intelligent lavender eyes—the same color as wisteria flowers.

She was youthful—both in looks and age, but more so in looks. Although thirty-six, the woman retained a youthful look which belonged in the face of a student, instead of one who had graduated nearly a score of years ago, despite the somber look to her eyes—eyes like she had seen and experienced too much—eyes of someone haunted by their past.

"Ah, Miss Potter, I hope you are well?" inquired the Headmaster.

The woman nodded and softly replied, "Very, sir. I trust you are as well?"

Chuckling, Albus Dumbledore replied, "As well as one as old as I can be, but please, call me Albus. You are no longer a student."

The witch looked doubtful at his reassurance about his health, eying his newly-blackened hand, but did not bother asking.

"Only if you return the sentiment…Albus."

"Of course, Civia."

Civia Potter nodded, appeased, and asked, "What is it you asked me here to speak about?"

"Right to the point as always, aren't you?" asked the wizard, blue eyes twinkling merrily. "As you wish. I'm afraid the Potions post is now vacant."

The witch cocked her head to the side, curiosity in the looming lavender depths of her eyes. "What of your previous Potions Master or Mistress? Am I to presume they've retired?"

Albus chuckled. "No, no. Severus will be taking over the Defense Against the Dark Arts post starting this coming year."

A slight crinkle appeared between her eyebrows at the name of said Potions Master. "Snape?" she paused, "He always did love Defense…But I am to presume you are offering me the position of Potions Mistress?"

"Keen as a blade you are, Civia," said Albus proudly, "Yes."

There was a long moment of deliberation on her part, before he asked, "So will you take the job?"

The woman nodded, and several more inky curls escaped the braid. "Of course, Albus. It is a Potions Mistress' dream job. Good salary, free housekeeping, delectable meals, no transportation needed to arrive at work, enough money and resources for research. The only downside is that it is dealing with young children with volatile ingredients. Perfect, excluding that."

"What about your nephew?" asked the Headmaster curiously.

Civia Potter stilled momentarily, before calmly replying.

"What will be, will be."

**

* * *

Chapter 1**

"_**There's nothing half so pleasant as coming home again.**__**"**_

**Margaret Elizabeth Sangster**

A week before the first of September, Civia Potter had moved into the rooms in Hogwarts from her room above the Leaky Cauldron.

As for all staff members, teaching quarters were composed of a bedroom, a sitting room which included a small kitchenette, a bathroom, and a study.

The rooms were beautiful. The bedroom was decorated with emerald greens, sapphire blues, soft turquoise, and earthen browns. The bed was a four poster bed with turquoise and chestnut sheets and hangings. The curtains matched. The carpet was a subdued emerald, while the walls a relaxing sapphire. The study was similar, with a large oak desk and several matching bookcases. The sitting room, where in which was the entrance, was comfortable with a fireplace, a green couch, and two blue armchairs. The window held a breathtaking view of the sparkling Black Lake and the Forbidden Forest.

Before she had remodeled them, the rooms had seemed darker, gloomy, with mainly shades of green, grey, and black occupying the furniture.

September first approached swiftly for the eldest of the Potters. That week at Hogwarts was spent hastily making lesson plans, cleaning her classroom, sorting through the storage room (which was in surprising order), exploring the private lab, or trying to relax.

Without warning, the beginning of September arrived. By then, she'd reacquainted herself with the school's layout, getting used to the placement of things, particularly the library, Great Hall, and Filius and Minerva's offices.

She'd been visited by all of Hogwarts' teachers, with one outstanding exception: Severus Snape.

The Potions Mistress had been almost surprised her predecessor was not the least bit curious about his replacement, but did not dawdle upon the thought.

Civia, like her twin brother, had been in the same year as Severus Snape at Hogwarts. While she had never once said a word to him before—not that the fact was uncommon for her—she knew of his dour, sarcastic persona. She'd also been in the Order of the Phoenix with her, as well.

But she also knew how he had hated—_loathed_—her brother…Civia honestly didn't blame him for that…the arrogant toerag he was to Snape…

_No,_ the witch thought, shaking her head, _don't think about them…_

Unwillingly, her thoughts went to the very thing she'd been trying to forget in the first place: the Welcoming Feast that was tonight. Logic knew it would be alright, but her heart still was nervous about it. Her! A teacher! The girl who was hardly known by anyone during her school years!

Sighing again, Civia stood from the armchair and went to the wardrobe in her bedroom, pulling out the best teaching robes she had and changing. They were simple, modest, and a deep sapphire. She chose the color because of her former house, but didn't care very much about her appearance, but she did want to make a good impression on her students and colleagues. With her height and young looks, she would blend right in with the students if she tried, so she had to make an appearance they'd remember.

Civia was determined to come out of her former shell. It would not due to be a painfully shy professor. The students would walk all over her!

Potion Mistress status aside, Civia loved Victorian frock coats, especially those of her own. They were made of high quality black wool, which would keep her plenty warm in the cold dungeons. It fit well; not quite form fitting, and not snug either, loose enough to allow freedom of movement. From the mandarin collar at her neck, a neat row of black buttons went down, ending at her waist. From there, the wool folds tended to stay closed, hiding her button up white blouse and a skirt or slacks beneath, but were free enough to allow movement. Tautly cinched at the waist, it allowed only a hint of her figure to show…well, if she had one, she often thought. The frock coats were custom-fitted, the shoulders fitting nicely. The sleeves fit just as well—not too loose to get in the way of brewing, but nor too tight to constrict movement. At the collar and ends of the sleeves, hints of her white blouse underneath were visible. A good thing about it was that is exposed little skin, protecting as much as possible in case of a potions accident.

**Picture this without the embroidery:**** http:/ www. Ladiesemporium .com ?_utma =1.861259948.1274743046.1274743046.1274743216.2 &_utmb=4743216&_utmc=1 &_utmx=-&_utmz=1.1274743046.1.1. utmcsr=google|utmccn=%28organic%29| utmcmd=organic|utmctr= victorian%20frock %20coat%20ladies &_utmv=-&_ut']{mk= 175989538 )**

Fingering an inky curl that fell in front of her eyes, she flicked it away. That was one of two things she and her brother had in common: messy black hair…as well as terrible vision. On him, the tousled hair looked nice, but her hair just looked like a mess. Not even Sleekeazy helped.

Pushing her glasses further up the bridge of her nose, she simply knew it was useless to try. She didn't mess with it much, only to tie it back in a plait when brewing.

Shutting the portrait behind her, she walked to the Great Hall, behavior showing none of her unease.

By the time Civia walked into the Great Hall, everything had been prepared for the students, who were due in five minute's time. The House tables had been cleaned, the windows washed and sparkling with the sun's setting rays, the ceiling above showing the sky's bright colors of the sun set.

Most of the staff was already present, seated or standing around the Head Table, all socializing. Albus and Minerva were in their seats—Albus at the center of the table, and Minerva to his right. When the Transfiguration Mistress saw her coming, she waved her over.

"Hello, Civia, I trust you're alright?"

Said woman furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. "Of course, why ever wouldn't I be?"

"You seem nervous," replied Minerva, smiling a bit, then patted her on the shoulder. "It's perfectly alright. We all are at first."

Civia surrendered, knowing they could tell, and dropped into the seat beside Minerva. "It's…I…I'm worried about…about my nephew."

"Ah," Albus said, "Harry." Civia nodded glumly, but did not miss the pair's eyes meet.

"He…_has_ been told of me…right?" asked the Potions Mistress quietly, hoping, though she could conjecture the answer.

By then, Filius had joined them, sitting on the Potions Mistress' right.

"Civia, you must understand," asked Minerva imploringly, "we had not seen you for over fifteen years…no one had…You had packed up your things and left the wizarding world after Harry defeated Voldemort," Tactful of her, Civia thought, not to mention my brother or sister-in-law, "and disappeared into the muggle world. We didn't even know if you were still in Europe. Many of us—the Order—" she clarified in a whisper, "thought you might be dead by now….Harry has suffered so much—losing his parents, his godfather, and many others, not to mention the dealings with Vol-Voldemort…we just didn't want to tell him that there was another family member that had vanished and was to be mourned, as we thought you dead…murdered," she admitted in a soft, sad whisper.

The Potter woman patted Minerva's hand consolingly, though her face held amused mirth. "What?" asked the Transfiguration Professor, confused.

A small, quiet laugh escaped the petite woman. "Oh, just the thought…murdered! Me! The thought is hilariously entertaining." She paused, then clarified, "I am afraid you're a bit behind, Minerva. Though I lived in the muggle world, I was no more distanced from the wizarding world than you. I worked, studied, even traveled to research. I've practiced and perfected so many powers and abilities…you would be thoroughly surprised."

Civia laughed quietly again, not quite a chuckle or giggle, but neither was it a bout of laughter.

"I've prepared my entire life for this year," she said somberly, gazing at the entrance of the Great Hall, from which students were now pouring in from. "This is what I am meant to do, trying or dying, I will protect my nephew," she vowed, placing a hand over her heart, "For the good of the wizarding world, the end of this blasted war, and for the Potter family."

"What are these abilities you've perfected?" asked Albus after a moment.

Civia shook her head. "It will wait for another time. I believe it is time for Minerva to fetch the first years."

The Deputy Headmistress nodded, rising and striding from the hall.

By then, the rest of the staff had seated themselves.

Civia paused, thinking back on what Minerva had said, then asked Albus. "Harry…lost…Sirius? He died? What happened?"

In low tones, the Headmaster somberly explained, but fell silent afterwards, deep in thought.

Not four minutes later, Minerva returned, with the frightened group of first years huddling together in fright and anxiety, as well as awe.

After the Sorting Hat's Song—original as ever, Civia noted, though it seemed as foreboding as it had when Voldemort rose to power in her later Hogwartian years—Minerva began the Sorting. Politely clapping for each one, Civia allowed her eyes to wander across the students.

Many were hardly paying the Sorting any mind, rather glancing at her curiously. Distinctively, several within her sights snickered to their friends and gestured something about her height. Her lips pressed together of their own accord. Well, if bullies thought they could undermine her, well let them try—though the keyword was _try_…unless you tacked on '_and fail'_.

Soon enough, all students were at their appropriate tables, and Albus stood. Respectful silence fell, and the headmaster cheerfully announced, "As always, there is a time and place for a speech, but that is neither here nor now. On with the feast."

The seasonal gasps of surprise followed as first years jumped as food bloomed onto the table like spring flowers.

Eating in silence, her wisteria eyes wandered along her colleagues, but halted upon seeing a figure she hadn't seen in many years.

Severus Snape seemed as dark and unpleasant as ever. If anything, his skin was paler, sallower, his nose even more noticeably hooked, his midnight hair greasy as ever, and thin as she'd last seen him. As if sensing her gaze, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher sneered disdainfully, hatefully, before returning to his dinner. Slim eyebrows contracting together, Civia wondered what she had done as she looked to her plate, suddenly having lost her appetite at the sight of the burning hatred in his black eyes.

Having finished, she returned to observing the students, who were all chatting cheerfully to friends, catching up over the summer, with ghost drifting here and there, including her own old House ghost, the Grey Lady. _Hm, I might have to say hello to her_…

Eventually, the food had vanished, and Albus stood, silence falling abruptly.

"The very best of evenings to you!" he said, smiling cheerfully, his arms open wide as if to embrace the entire room.

A collective gasp echoed in the hall, eyes stuck on the Headmaster's cursed hand.

"Nothing to worry about," he said in a placating manner. "Now…to our new students welcome, to our old students, welcome back! Another year full of magical education awaits you, but before we continue on to bed, I have a few announcements to make.

"Mr. Filch, our caretaker,"—Merlin, that man was still here, Civia wondered idly—"has asked me to say that there is a blanket ban on any joke items bought at the shop called Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes.

"Those wishing to play for their House Quidditch teams should give their names to their Head of House as usual. We are also looking for new Quidditch commentators, who should do likewise.

"This year, we are pleased to have a new member of the staff this year," Albus turned infinitesimally and motioned for her to rise, "Please welcome Professor Civia Potter…"

"Potter?"

"Wait, like Harry?"

"Who's—"

"—of Harry's?"

"Potter?"

Murmurs filled the hall, but Albus continued, raising his voice, "…who has consented to take up the post of Potions Mistress."

"Potions?" That echoed through the hall, still echoing with her surname, as if wondering if they needed their hearing checked. "_Potions?_"

"Meanwhile, Professor Snape will be taking over the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"No!" came a loud, angry exclamation from a boy at the Gryffindor table.

Civia looked at him, and froze.

It was a flashback from their Hogwarts days, when she was the tiny little slip of a girl no one even knew the name of, while her twin brother—fraternal twin, ten minutes elder than she—was known by all as the golden boy, the Quidditch star, the arrogant toerag she had nearly hated before he changed his ways and started dating Lily.

Harry James Potter was the twin of James, so it seemed, not her. They had the same messy, black hair that stuck up notoriously, the same tall, thin build, the same facial structure and features. The only trace of her dear friend Lily, her sister-in-law, was his eyes—startlingly, vibrantly emerald green. They were exactly alike, she saw, even from this distance.

Their eyes were locked for a brief instant, in which Civia could sense his confusion, hatred of Snape, and a bit of anger at Albus and she.

But then he looked back to Snape furiously, speaking quietly with two of his classmates.

Ah…Snape's hatred for James had been transferred to Harry, while Sirius's hate for Snape had influenced Harry…not good…

Shaking her head, concentrating on Albus again, Civia Potter made a mental note to speak about it later.

* * *

**If you do not know, I have posted a trailer for the fanfic on youtube, with the link below. I made this myself, to the song "Hand of Sorrow" by Within Temptation-a beautiful song that is eerily similar to Severus Snape's life. **

**Link: http:/www . youtube . com / watch ?v= fu4haGTkegk**

**So, please leave a rating or comment - I made the video all by myself. **

Anywho, PLEASE RATE AND REVIEW-or I will cut your heart out with a blunt spoon! (Why a spoon? 'CAUSE IT'LL HURT MORE! :D LOL.

Thanks!


	2. Potions Mistress

**Chapter 2**

"_**The mediocre teacher tells. The good teacher explains. The superior teacher demonstrates. The great teacher inspires." - **____**William A. Ward**_

* * *

The next morning, Civia was so anxious that she had to force herself to eat breakfast.

In the dungeon classroom, she prepared for her first class: the Gryffindor and Slytherin first years.

Timidly, the small students—though only a bit shorter than she—came into the room, seating themselves, speaking in soft whispers, clearly nervous and frightened. They seemed confused by the layout of the desks and chairs, all arranged in a circle in the large classroom, around a single, large cauldron in the very center of the room.

When the bell rang, she set her quill down and rolled up the piece of parchment she'd been writing on. With the students silently watching her, she went to the window and gave the scroll to a school owl lingering outside, and turned her attention to the attentive class.

All were sitting ramrod straight in their seats, books out, as well as quills and parchment. Anxiety and unease was upon every face.

She chuckled to herself but spoke reassuringly as she smiled kindly to them.

"If any of you have heard rumors of a horribly despicable Potions professor, you needn't be nervous. That would not be me." True to her word, they breathed in relief, the tension draining slightly from their stiff postures.

"I am Professor Potter," she introduced herself, "And, hopefully, I will be better than my predecessor at this. I'm new to Hogwarts as well," she said, trying to offer a bit of comfort, then amended, "at least, as a teacher. This is my first year, so I suppose I'm a bit like you. I need to get used to it and everyone.

"Now, if any of you are of wizarding parents, you know what potions are. You've seen them, I'm sure, and probably have taken a couple. But if you are muggleborn, don't worry," she soothed, "Think of Potions as a cooking class: you prepare ingredients, put them together, and it is drunk by another, if it is well made. Though the results in here will certainly be more magical than in a kitchen.

"But unlike typical food, Potions are something incredibly unique. You do not need to be magically talented—or magical at all—as long as your ingredients have already been properly collected. You don't need a wand…for now at least. Should you advance to the NEWT level, you may.

"Every potion is unique. Each has different ingredients or a different brewing process. Each has unique effects. Each has different appearances, textures, scents, and tastes.

"For our first potions class, we will be making a very simple potion to cure boils and other stubborn forms of acne.

"Now, if you turn to page twenty in your textbook, who would like to read the first step?"

An eager pink-faced girl raised her hand. "What's your name?" Civia asked.

"Angela Green," she replied enthusiastically.

"Alright, Angela, go ahead."

"One – Heat cauldron until base of Agrippa turns red."

Civia nodded, "Would you care to demonstrate, here?" She motioned to the cauldron in the center of the room, as she sat on the edge of her desk, which was included in the circle of desks. The little blond-brown haired girl bounced from her seat to the cauldron, set it up and waited…

"Very good. Two points for your house."

At the third step, a boy—Mark Hatch—poured the appropriate amount of flobberworm mucus in, until the potion was pink, and so on and so forth, until a Slytherin girl added porcupine quills.

"Do any of you know why you must take the cauldron off the fire before you add the quills?" the Potions Mistress asked.

"If you don't, you'll get boils all over when it melts the cauldron!" exclaimed a girl.

"Correct. Four points for your house."

When the finished the potion, Civia filled a small vial of it, corked it, and held it up to inspect it.

"Well done, class," she said, causing many to beam with pride. "Now, next class, you'll be brewing this potion in pairs. Having done it already, it should be easy.

"I hate to say this, but it is essential. You won't be getting much homework for a while, though, if you will open your textbook to page thirteen, you will see a small list of different categories of potions: a brew, concoction, draught, draft, elixir, philter, poison, and tincture. I want all of you to flip through the text and find an example of each of these and explain why it is so. For example…the Draught of Living Death. What makes it specifically a draught?

"This will be due next class, but should be fun and easy enough."

They all looked fairly eager at the easy assignment.

"Now, gather your belongings if you haven't because the bell should ring in…three…two—" She was cut off by the bell.

"Have a good day, everyone!" she called as they filed out, chattering animatedly about the lesson.

The next first year class—Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws—went just as well.

Then she had a free period, lasting through lunch. Having no paperwork to do, she grabbed her notes, stuffed them into a pocket in her outer robes, and warded her office and private laboratory.

She opened a window, then, leapt into the air.

After hardly a second, the petite woman was gone, with a feathered bird in her place.

The owl was tiny—it was only about six inches tall—with tawny red-brown feathered wings and head; with white around its golden eyes and streaked along its body. It was tiny and sleek, agile.

Stroking rapidly with its wings, the owl rose soared from the classroom up to the staffroom window.

Deliberately, it delicately knocked its beak against the closed window.

There was only one person in the staffroom at the time.

Severus Snape, ex-Potions Master, current Defense teacher, was sitting in an armchair, writing all over students' essays with brilliant red ink. He looked up when he heard the noise, scowled, but opened the window reluctantly.

The owl flew in, but instead of landing, paused mid air, and transformed gracefully into Civia Potter.

The scowl on the DADA teacher's face deepened. "Potter," he sneered.

"Professor Snape," she greeted softly, shyly, as her face flushed crimson.

"Well, you seem, like your cousin, to have quite the flair for dramatics," he observed, sneering.

She flushed more, but this time in anger. "James wasn't my cousin," she corrected irritably. "He was my brother—my older twin."

His eyebrows went up in surprise. "You look—remarkably—different."

Civia snorted to herself and muttered, "He got the Potter family genes and I got the Black family genes—and the thinking genes, as well."

"He most certainly lacked all, as you call them, thinking genes," Snape sneered.

Civia's wisteria eyes flashed dangerously, but she simply pursed her lips and seated herself at a desk, pulling her notes and quill out of her robe pockets.

She had been called by many, to both her embarrassment and her pride, the best Potions Mistress of the age, and she prided herself in doing her best to qualify as such. Almost at a maniacal rate, any records of her contributions to modern potioneering grew swiftly.

While she was known as the best Potions Mistress, the best Potions Master was the one before her.

As she retreated to her work on counteracting the after-effects of the Cruciatus, Civia was very aware of her colleague's piercing, curious—though thoroughly annoyed—stare.

Finally, when the bell rang, other teachers came in, filling the awkward silence between the two Potions masters.


	3. Family

**Chapter 3**

"_**Family…is a bit like a runny peach pie - not perfect but who's complaining?"**_** ~Robert Brault**

* * *

After lunch, she had her Double sixth years class. Apprehension rolled in her stomach, causing her to be grateful for her moment of foresight not to eat much for lunch.

It was an even class—only twenty-two students, a nice number for her. Eight Gryffindors, six Slytherins, five Ravenclaws, and four Hufflepuffs made up the class—twelve boys and ten girls.

The desks had returned to their previous location after the first year class. Everything was spotless and clean.

From her private laboratory, Civia had brought out several already full cauldrons and set them up in front of her desk.

Slowly, cautiously, the students drifted into the room. Some of the first were her nephew and his two friends—the gangly redheaded Weasley, Ronald she guessed, and the slightly bushy-brown haired girl.

When the bell rang, she stood from her desk and went to the front of the class—_her_ class.

"Hello, everyone," she started, smiling, trying to make a good impression—especially upon her nephew. "As you know, I am Professor Potter, and I shall be your Potions Professor."

Harry raised his hand sheepishly. "Er—Professor, Ron and I haven't got our books or anything—we didn't realize we'd be able to do the NEWT, you see—"

"Ah yes," she interrupted, smiling, "I believe Professor McGonagall spoke to me about that."

She looked back to her desk, flicked a hand, and two similar stacks floated from her desk to the boys. The textbook—_Advanced Potion Making_—was in the stack, as well as the NEWT potion ingredients kit and a pair of scales. Surprised glances were exchanged all around the room.

Civia continued, "For your first NEWTs class in Potions, I brought out a few of the potions I've been making lately to show you what you all should be able to brew after passing your NEWT exam.

Stepping beside the first cauldron, she asked, "Any guesses what this one is?"

The slow-bubbling, mudlike potion was not unheard of, but rarely used nowadays.

A few hands hit the air, three of which were Harry and his friends.

"Yes?" she asked.

"It's Polyjuice Potion, ma'am!" exclaimed the brunette between Harry and Ronald, who shared a grin.

Smiling, she nodded. "Very good, Miss…?"

"Granger."

"Five points, Miss Granger," she said, causing the girl to beam.

Civia nodded to herself, but motioned to the next, seemingly full of plain water. "And this, anyone?"

"Veritaserum," supplied the slick blond-haired Slytherin boy. Draco Malfoy, she knew. He looked exactly as Lucius Malfoy had in their school years, with only a hint of Narcissa's features in his face.

"And it is?"

"The most powerful truth serum in the world."

"Five points, to you as well."

As she motioned to the next, a curly blond haired Gryffindor girl promptly exclaimed, "Amortentia!"

Civia chuckled. "You all would best be off far away from this potion as possible. For those of you not aware, Amortentia is the most powerful love potion in the world, recognizable as its characteristic steam spirals and its scent, which varies upon what attracts you most."

For her, the Amortentia smelled of new parchment, fresh sandalwood, and something she faintly recognized, but could not think of what it was, though it was on the tip of her tongue.

She continued on, showing them the Felix Felicis and Draught of Living Death, the latter of which they eventually were instructed to brew.

After about ten minutes, the room was filled with slightly blue-tinted steam.

Civia walked around the room, offering suggestions, corrections, and praise. The one Gryffindor girl—Hermione Granger, she learned—was very efficient with her potion, having one of the best in the class.

The class went well. The bell rang, and everyone filed out, delighted at the end of the school day.

Harry stayed, his two friends lingering too, unwilling to let him alone in these dangerous times. "You may stay," she acquiesced, and they looked relieved. "Come into my office, the three of you."

They trailed in after her into her office.

It had been a dank, dim, gloomy office when she arrived. Its walls had been completely covered in jars of potions ingredients—most had been taken, and all of those left behind far, _far_ past their expiration dates. She had vanished them instantly, though she kept the shelving for her own ingredients on one wall. Filling the cabinets of the opposite wall were multitudes of potions—healing potions, sleeping potions, truth potions, memory potions, false emotion potions, poisons, antidotes, and every other type and variation of potions imaginable, save most love potions. The last two walls were covered—absolutely covered in books.

A large, intricately carved oak desk was center of the office, matching the cabinets and shelves.

Contrary to the former décor of her predecessor's choice, she had not decorated her office with the intimidation factor in mind. It had the same color scheme of her quarters: emerald, sapphire, turquoise, and chestnut.

She leaned against the desk's edge and snapped her fingers loudly as the students settled into chairs.

With a crack, a familiar house elf appeared, with huge green eyes and wearing layers of sweaters and socks.

"Professor Potter!" he squeaked delightedly. "Dobby hopes you is well!"

She laughed lightly. "Of course, Dobby. I hope you are as well. If you weren't too busy, I was hoping you might be able to bring my guests and me some tea and biscuits?"

Dobby's tennis ball eyes swiveled to Harry.

"Harry Potter!" he squealed gleefully, "I is hoping you is well?

"Er—I'm fine, actually," he replied awkwardly, "How are you?"

The house elf beamed to her nephew. "I is fine, Harry Potter! I is liking Hogwarts very much!"

"How is Winky, Dobby?" asked Hermione quietly.

Dobby's ears drooped a bit. "Winky is still drinking Butterbeer, but Professor Potter has been helping her, she is, she is! Dobby will be back with the Professor's tea and biscuits!"

He disappeared with a crack. "Dobby has been most complementary about you three, you know," she said with a smile.

Dobby returned swiftly, bobbing his head cheerfully, delivering the food, and disappeared with another loud crack.

Absently levitating a cup of tea to each of them and manually stirring her own, she set the platter of biscuits between them and looked to her nephew.

"So, I suppose you have questions for me, Harry?" she asked, bracing herself for the onslaught.

"Are you really related to me?"

His question burst forth without hesitation, green eyes—so much like her sister in law's, she thought with an ache in her stomach—lit with curiosity.

Civia chuckled. "Indeed. I am." She did not miss their sharp intakes of breath, and continued despite them. "For now, call me Civia, please. We are not in class, and I am not your professor at the moment.

"I am—_was_—your father's sister," she explained, eyes distant as she gazed out the window, "his twin sister."

"But you look nothing alike!" exclaimed her nephew.

The Potions Mistress laughed. "I always used to say he got the Potter family genes and I got the Black family genes—his and my mother was a Black, you see. He was tall, athletic, and tan. I have the typical black hair, pale skin, and small stature of the Blacks." She frowned. "The only Potter traits I got were the perennially chaotic hair and ghastly eyesight—I need my glasses to read." As she spoke, Civia flicked away an errant curl from her face and pushed her librarian-looking glasses further up onto the bridge of her nose.

"We were never much alike," she continued, pausing to sip her tea. "He was popular, handsome, a Quidditch player, and a prankster—and very much a Gryffindor. On the other hand, I was unnoticed, spoke rarely to my classmates, not athletic in the least, unattractive, with the height of a second year and my nose incessantly stuck in a book."

She shook her head, chuckling to herself. "I was too different for your brother. He was a bit arrogant and shallow in his early Hogwarts years, you see. I was too different, too smart, too unpopular, too _Ravenclaw_." She snorted, but her eyes were sad. "He regretted it later on in life, distancing himself from me."

"You were Sorted into Ravenclaw?" asked Hermione.

Civia nodded. "Indeed. It was torn between Slytherin and Ravenclaw, but decided I was too…moral for the house of snakes, though I apparently had the cunning of one." She gave a small laugh.

"Why did you let Aunt Petunia raise me, then…Civia?" Harry asked, a slightly hurt look on your face.

Hers softened. "Oh, Harry. I wanted to. Desperately. Albus would not allow me to. I did not share Lily's blood, and could not offer you the blood protection. I was fully able to fight off any Death Eater that came my way—even Voldemort if he dared," she muttered bitterly, "I am a champion dueller. I could best any Death Eater out there.

"Nothing I or anyone else said could change his mind," she said sadly. "He was adamant you were best off not knowing of the magical world or your status in it until you came to Hogwarts.

"I was heartbroken, meanwhile," Civia said, her soft voice nearly a whisper. "Two of my only three close family members were killed, and the last shipped off to the muggle world, with myself banned from being near him—you.

"I left London, and disappeared into the muggle world, though I never completely abandoned magic. I learned, and studied, and practiced, and trained, and perfected. I did everything possible to prepare for the day my skills would be needed."

Harry nodded, accepting my explanation, and she could breath again.

"You knew V-Voldemort would come back?" asked Ron, astounded, mouth gaping, revealing a half-chewed biscuit.

She snorted. "Only a fool would think otherwise. But it was not only that which I knew I would be needed for. It was also this. Why Albus asked me to come to Hogwarts."

"Why?" asked Hermione eagerly.

"To protect my only family left, as well as Hogwarts itself and its students," she paused and added, "It was only pure chance that allowed me my preferred job. I could have been the DADA teacher, but Albus decided to make us both happy and give us our preferred jobs."

"So you're a Potions Master?" asked Harry curiously.

"Mistress," she corrected, with a smile, "and yes. I am only of the small handful of Potions Mistresses of this century. I love potions—always have."

"Why?"

She smiled wider. "There is simply something beautiful about it. The delicate procedure and art of brewing; the multitude of effects…It is and shall always be, with few exceptions, a solitary art. If nothing else, solitude is what I know best."

Civia stopped herself as a clock chimed four thirty. "I believe dinner should start soon. Now, I have some work to do on a few potions for Poppy, so off you trot—and don't forget whatever homework you have!"

Harry and Ron groaned, while Hermione beamed.

Minerva had told her about their adventures and personalities. Civia had a feeling that, had the boys not befriended Hermione, she would have been the next Civia Potter.

Chuckling to herself, Civia closed the door and went to a large portrait on the wall of a pair of brilliant phoenixes. Putting her hand to the wall, she murmured, "When the world says 'give up', hope whispers, 'try it one more time'."

The portrait swung open, revealing a small spiral staircase, wide enough for only one person to travel up at a time, though it was not cramped. Trotting lightly up the steps, she soon emerged from a similar portrait in her quarters.

Collapsing slightly onto the sofa, Civia smiled softly to herself as she felt all the tension leave her body: Harry had accepted her.


	4. Bring Me to Life

**Chapter 4**

"_**Without a thought,**  
**Without a voice,  
Without a soul,  
Don't let me die here  
There must be something more  
Bring me to life"**_

**-Evanescence, "Bring Me to Life"**

* * *

That evening was her night to make rounds. Most of her colleagues seemed to hate doing rounds, but Civia, all in all, didn't mind.

She was a night owl—pun not intended—anyways, and did not mind the exercise. Plus, she could always fly. The castle was quiet and peaceful, nearly deserted, save the two Gryffindor second years she caught trying to get to the kitchens.

It had been near two-thirty in the morning when she heard a great disturbance near the entrance hall.

She had sprinted there immediately. What she found, however, was not what she had expected.

A person—Snape, she recognized with a slight choking noise—had been coming in and collapsed, out cold, on the stone floor. But that was not all. His cloak and robes were soaked through with blood. Many small rips and tears were in the fabric, as well as a few scorch marks.

Civia had always been handy in an emergency—she'd been one of the best healers for the Order during the First War—and this was no exception. Without pause, she gently turned him onto his back. Checking his airway, breathing, and circulation, the Potions Mistress checked his vital signs and was relieved to see he was alive, though his pulse was slow, weak, and faint. With a slight motion with her hand, palm up, his prone form rose into the air and hovered in front of her and she hurtled down the halls. The hospital wing was too far away, she didn't know where his quarters were, and hers were close.

It didn't take long for her to decide where to take him.

Once inside her chambers, she laid him onto her sofa then transformed and flew to her office and private lab, where she stored her potions. Collecting several, Civia ran back.

Carefully, Civia removed his cloak, to try to see the injuries. Unfortunately, all it revealed was more cuts in his clothing and more still flowing blood. Wincing as she did so, she swiftly removed the outer robes, revealing more blood still and a blood-soaked black frock coat, not unlike her own.

Swiftly, a vial was being held to his lips as its contents poured down Snape's throat. Civia massaged his throat to get him to swallow. The Blood Replenishing Potion would work, but not if she couldn't heal whatever injuries he had. As she scanned for injuries, Civia sent out a Patronus to Albus—he'd know what happened for sure. But then, with a jolt, she realized Albus was in London until tomorrow morning. With frustration, she sent the same messages to Minerva and Poppy.

Directing her attention back to Snape, she surveyed his injuries. A broken right leg, a fractured collarbone, a third degree burn just below the ribs, a gaping, gushing stab wound from the stomach, caused by what Civia guessed was a knife.

Gathering her courage, she removed his shirt, exposing the stab wound and burn.

Moving swiftly, she began muttering long, complex phrases in Latin. Slowly, the organs the blade had harmed healed and the skin knitted closed. Eventually, all that was left was a long, pale, slightly silvery scar.

Looking to the burn, she winced. It was thrice the width of her hand, with the skin burned black with the tissue underneath a ghastly white. Putting her hands less than an inch away from the burn, she began whispering incantations so quickly, it sounded like song. Slowly, it healed, though the new skin was bright red like a sun burn. Civia grabbed a small jar and unscrewed the lid. Dipping two fingers into the thick orange paste, she methodically spread the Burn-Healing Paste on the skin. It would help the skin recover completely, prevent scarring, and keep him from feeling too much pain from it for several hours.

As the hastily screwed on the top of the jar, there was a hasty knock on the door to her chambers.

"Come in!" she nearly barked.

Poppy and Minerva rushed in.

"What happened, Civia?" demanded the Deputy Headmistress. Swiftly, as Poppy worked on healing the broken bones, the Potions Mistress explained how she'd found her predecessor and the extent of his injuries.

"You did well," said Poppy, after both she and Civia had finished. "He will be fine by morning, I expect."

"Why…what happened to him?" she asked, looking sadly at Snape.

The other two women shared a glance. "You remember how, during the First War, Severus became a spy for the Order? He has returned to that duty now. He Who—_Voldemort_," Minerva forced herself to say, obviously trying to get into the habit of calling him by his 'true name', "does not believe Severus is completely trustworthy, and he is often punished for not giving him valuable information."

Civia felt sympathy well in her stomach. "Every time he goes?"

"Nearly," said Poppy wearily, "Either he is 'punished' for not giving him enough information, or what Severus gives him is not pleasant."

The three women fell silent, thinking.

Civia felt her eyes wander, eventually landing on Snape. Poppy had healed the rest of his smaller injuries—cuts, scrapes, bruises—and cleaned the blood from him.

The silvery scar from the stab wound was, well, almost surprisingly not the only scar he had on his abdomen. Previously, she would have been surprised, but considering what Minerva had just told her, it wasn't.

Silvery lines crossed and overlapped his chest, some faded and white while others were pink and still healing.

"Civia?" asked Minerva, drawing her mind from Snape. "Are you alright?"

The Potions Mistress nodded wearily. "Simply tired. It is draining for me to heal wounds of that severity." She paused then asked Poppy, "Will you take him to the Hospital Wing?"

The matron nodded. "I will."

As she transfigured a stretcher, Minerva laid a hand on Civia's shoulder, the Head of Gryffindor told her, "Rest child. Severus will be fine. I shall tell him you found him. Now go to bed."

The Potions Mistress nodded. "I will…but don't tell him it was I. He hates being in people's debt, especially a Potter's," she said sadly.

Minerva gave her shoulder a motherly pat and she left, biding Civia good night.

Exhausted, Civia Potter slipped under the comforter of her bed and fell asleep.


	5. Debt

**Chapter 5**

"…_**Professor Snape couldn't bear being in [James Potter]'s debt... I do believe he worked so hard to protect you this year because he felt that would make him and your father even…" **_

– **JK Rowling, "Harry Potter and the Philosopher's/Sorcerer's Stone**

* * *

Civia did not get a chance to ask Snape how he was recovering in a week, hell, she hadn't even seen him since Poppy had taken him to the Hospital Wing. The next time she saw him was at the end of the weekly staff meeting, on Friday.

At the end of the meeting, while the rest of the staff was busy socializing, Civia gathered her courage—not an easy feat, for a non-Gryffindor—and almost timidly went to Snape, hidden in the dark corner, grading essays. The amount of red ink he used on a single essay was astounding; it made her wonder how much he used in a week.

"Yes?" he asked impatiently, not looking up from some poor student's hasty scrawl.

"Er, I'm sorry to interrupt your grading, Professor Snape, but I was told by Albus that you were the Potions Master before me. The Ministry of Magic asked me to brew a batch of Veritaserum for them, but it is a two person job…"

Finally, his eyes moved from the parchment. An eyebrow is raised, the only sign of emotion on his face, though there was a certain icy quality in his piercing obsidian gaze at her.

"And why," he asked, sheer boredom in his disdainful tone, "would I help _you_ with that, _Potions Mistress_?"

Civia's face flushed brilliantly. "Excuse me, _Professor_, I simply believed it was common courtesy to help when one asked for it. Seeing as you were the Potions Master, I thought you might help me."

"I am not longer Potions Master here," he said, going back to his grading, "It is not my problem."

As Civia glared at him in indignation, she tried to convince herself not to get angry.

Snape looked up from his grading, "I apologize if I did not make myself clear. That was my polite way to say no."

She bit back a huff as she nearly stomped away, though it came out as she sat down in her chair on the opposite end of the staffroom.

Beside her, Minerva chuckled.

"Tell me, Minerva," Civia said lightly, "is he always such a bastard, or is he making a special effort today?"

The Transfiguration Mistress chuckled, clearly amused. "Oh, Civia. You'll always be one to lighten my mood."

"I'm serious."

"I know, my dear," Minerva said, earnest now, patting her slim-fingered hand. "Severus has always had a grudge against James, and after he and Lily died, I'm afraid the grudge dispersed to all Potters in general. He and Harry absolutely loath each other. Don't take it personally."

Civia nodded, sighed, and stood. "I'm sorry, Minerva, but I really need to go work on this batch of Veritaserum for the Ministry. I'll see you tomorrow at breakfast."

She bade everyone goodnight, though she pointedly ignored Snape, and walked briskly to her private laboratory.

Once Civia had left the staffroom, Minerva grabbed the copy of the _Daily Prophet _from the table by her, stood, and went to Severus, who was still harshly grading essays. She watched him write _Troll_ at the top of the paper.

Without warning, Minerva's rolled up newspaper made contact with his shoulder. The Potions Master jumped.

"Whatever did I do this time?" he grumbled.

"I was just about to ask that myself," said Minerva reprovingly, "What did you say to Civia?"

"That chit?" he snorted. "I told her I wasn't going to waste my time helping her on some blasted potion for the Ministry. I am not the Potions teacher—I am the DADA professor. It is not my job."

"Severus, you don't understand," Minerva sighed exasperatedly. "Civia used a lot of magic earlier this week, and is still recovering from it, _that's_ why she asked you for help—you, the only person on this staff even adequate with potions."

"I still do not see why it is my duty to her that _Potter_ chit of a girl with the blasted Veritaserum."

"Severus, Civia is not a 'chit of a girl'—she's thirty-six, as old as you! You know that. And you _owe_ her, Severus. You know you do."

"So what if I do?" Severus asked, bored.

"Severus Tobias Snape, you listen to me! That young woman saved your life and now requested your help!"

Sighing in annoyance he stood. "Fine, fine…"

Even being near that Potter chit would be better than being badgered by that woman…

Civia had been in a dark mood as she brewed the Veritaserum, muttering to herself about 'rude bastards'.

Glancing at the timer, she picked up the two, perfect ebony feathers, feathers from a Jabberknoll. They were key ingredients, and particularly volatile when added to the potion.

Severus had been Potions Master before her, and knew where the private laboratory was. The portrait knew who he was, and allowed him entry. The chit—the Potter woman, he corrected himself in a mental grumble, thinking of the scolding he'd just received—was in her own world, made up of only she and the potion.

If one ever saw a Potions Master or Mistress at work, one could tell the difference between a master and just a witch or wizard brewing. Masters have a grace about them, one like no other. The delicate work with the ingredients, but gentle way they handle it all.

Somehow, it was different with Mistresses—or at least, Severus thought, this one.

She had a grace and fluidity in her movements he had never bore witness to before. Pale, small, slender, delicate fingers were nimble, their hands ambidextrous. The secure sleeves of her clothing showed her tiny wrists, delicate and slim. Her wisteria eyes were narrowed slightly in concentration behind the slim frames. Moving to and fro in the laboratory, she had a certain elegance to her, only enhanced by the way the fumes from the cauldron made stray tendrils of ebony around her face while the rest was in a plait down her back that swung with her movements. The warmth from the cauldron caused her pale face to flush enticingly.

She had gotten too warm with her robes and removed them, revealing her clothing underneath. She, like he, wore a Victorian style frock coat—they were common with Potions Masters. For most women, it simply made them look old and prudish, but not so for her. They highlighted her figure—a modest bosom, a slender waist, round hips, and relatively long legs, for one of her stature.

Civia Potter may not be a great beauty, he thought, but she had a definite grace and elegance in the potions laboratory.

She had obviously not expected him to come. She was fully concentrated on her task, her mind focused on the potion. When she saw him from the corner of her strange eyes, she jumped, and the jabberknoll feathers fluttered from her hand to the cauldron.

Any Potions Master or Mistress with a shred of intelligence knew it was a fragile step in brewing Veritaserum. Severus knew the reaction it would cause.

Darting forward, he pulled the tiny woman away from the volatile potion and pulled her to his chest as he turned away from the cauldron.

The explosion was painfully loud. Both fell to the floor form the sheer force of the explosion.

Civia was pinned under Snape, she realized awkwardly after the lab fell silent.

"We should be fine now," she said softly.

Both hastily stood. The potion had exploded and covered everything, except them. What should have hit them had been deflected and was around them in a neat ring around them.

"I placed wards," she explained as she wandlessly vanished the ruined potion from the floor. "I'll just start again. At least I didn't get far…"

"Professor Potter," he interrupted stiffly, "I apologize. I shouldn't have come in without warning."

"It's alright," she said, waving it off, "We all make mistakes. I'm in my own world when I brew."

"I noticed," he sniped.

She did not reply, busying herself with vanishing everything left in the cauldron. Disappearing into the supply cupboard, she sent all the needed ingredients floating to the table in the lab one by one.

When she returned, Civia was surprised to see him pouring the Agrippa into the cauldron.

Wisely remaining silent, she went to his side by the cauldron, beginning to chop up the knotgrass, and they diligently began remaking the Veritaserum in companionable, though awkward silence.

Severus, however, was grumbling in his mind. The explosion could have killed them, and just when he tried to fulfill a life debt…he was again in her debt.

Annoying chit.


	6. Friendship

**Chapter 6**

"_**A true friend reaches for your hand and touches your heart."**_

**~ Attributed to Heather Pryor**

* * *

Thursday evening, Civia had been called to Albus' office, and asked to rejoin the Order of the Phoenix—to which she eagerly agreed—and had been told that there was a meeting Friday, here in Hogwarts, in the Room of Requirement, at precisely nine o'clock.

However, on her way the next day, she had been rushing to the top floor from the dungeons, when she heard two pairs of shouting and yelling, as well as several bangs…

Everyone fell respectfully silent as Albus stood, his piercing gaze flicking over all present. His eyebrows contracted.

"Where is she?" asked Minerva, beside him, quietly. "She's not one to be late…"

To the Deputy Headmistress' left, the Potions Master snorted doubtfully. Trust the chit to be late, of course.

Then the door was hastily opened, and the slip of a Potions Mistress hurried in, cheeks aflame.

"I'm sorry, Albus," she hastily explained as she headed to an empty seat. "Two students started to duel in the sixth floor corridor. One's arm was broken and the other had been hexed spectacularly. I had to get them to Poppy…"

"Civia?" one interrupted, surprised.

"Oh, er—hello, Remus," she said, but was still nervous under the gaze of all the Order—save Snape, who was rolling his.

A spiky pink-haired young woman in a Weird Sisters shirt and heavily patched jeans—giving her a look similar to a muggle rocker look—had been blowing a bubble with Droobles Best Blowing Gum which popped in her surprise as she sat up in curiosity. "Civia P—you're Civia Potter?"

Again, said witch's face reddened a most potent shade. "Unfortunately."

"Civia returned from the muggle world at my request, Nymphadora," Albus explained, and the Potions Mistress noted the wince at her first name. "While Severus took the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts, Civia acquiesced to my offer of the Potions post."

Remus gave her a startled look. Of all the 'Marauders', Civia liked him the best. "I thought you planned on never really coming back to the wizarding world."

Her face tightened, causing brackets to form around her pursed lips. "Times change," she muttered. "Voldemort came back, though I did not hear about it until after the skirmish in the Ministry."

Her main reason did not pass from her lips, though it hung in the air.

_Harry is in danger._

Small a sentence as it was, it changed the world in comparison with the longest sentiments.

After the meeting ended, many members stayed, all chatting and socializing.

It was awkward at first, seeing as she didn't know half of them, but Remus quickly drummed up a conversation with her, which the woman Albus had called Nymphadora joined curious

"I'm Tonks," she introduced herself. "It's my surname, but I prefer it to _Nymphadora_."

Civia had laughed. "I understand. I don't really care for my name either. My brother was simply James, and I was stuck with _Civia_. You'd think my mother would name me something simple too."

"So you're really Harry's aunt?" the Metamorphmagus asked.

She felt her face redden before she hesitantly replied, "Yes—James's sister."

"And you're the new Potions Mistress here?" Remus inquired curiously.

Civia nodded. "Yes, I am. I replaced Professor Snape."

Tonks grinned. "Bet the kids like you more."

She chuckled. "You could say that. I guess I'm much less intimidating in comparison—not to mention I lowered the bar to get into the NEWT class…"

They continued on, thankfully not touching the subject of Civia's family again. She liked Tonks—the Metamorphmagus was hilarious! Remus was very much the same as she last saw of him. She also couldn't help but notice how the two acted around each other—they were obviously attracted to each other.

Civia sighed to herself. Almost everyone she knew was married or was seeing someone. Why did it feel like she was the only one without a partner?


	7. First Casualty

**Chapter 7**

"_**In war, truth is the first casualty." **_

**~Aeschylus **_**(Thanks, Dan)**_

* * *

The year progressed slowly, but not unpleasantly so.

Harry was apparently taking lessons from Albus on Voldemort's past, to which Albus had asked her to attend as well for her input and observational skills.

Snape was still cold to her, though less harshly so. He didn't sneer about her brother in her presence, at least. Several times in the staff room, they had partaken in a miniature battle of wits. Surprisingly, they were enjoyable and incredibly amusing, especially to whatever staff members happened to be nearby.

The day of the October Hogsmeade was an exceptionally cold one—there was even snow on the ground and a bitterly cold wind in the air. Fortunately, Civia thought as she watched the students leave to brave to cold, _I don't have Hogsmeade chaperone duties this month_.

Sure, she felt terrible for the students and teachers out there, but…eh. A little cold never hurt anybody. Okay, so…maybe a bit of frostbite, of course, but she could fix that by brewing a couple of potions for Poppy.

Instead of standing out in the bitter wind watching the students, Civia remained inside, doing some work on potions. As a certified Potions Mistress—one of the best, truthfully—had an advantage. For years now, Civia had supplied numerous companies, businesses, families, and Ministries with potions. It had only expanded the sum of Galleons in the Potter vault.

Just as she had finished boxing up an order of vials of Veritaserum for the Norwegian Ministry, a silver Patronus coalesced in front of her.

"There's been an attack on a student," the cat said in Minerva's worry-colored voice. "Katie Bell is in the Hospital Wing. Please come immediately."

Civia barely manage to set the crate down before she was an owl, flying through the halls as fast as possible. When she entered the infirmary, she was still at full speed and transformed mid air, jogging to a halt in front of the Deputy Headmistress.

Somehow, she wasn't comforted by the fact that Harry, Ron, Hermione, and another student—Leanne, she realized—were across the walkway from the only occupied bed.

"What's happened?" she asked breathlessly, just as Snape strode in and joined them.

Minerva looked to the four students. "Tell them."

"K-Katie and I were in from the Three Broomsticks," Leanne explained shakily, "She went into the bathroom, but came out with a package—she said it was a surprise for somebody at Hogwarts and had to deliver it. She looked all funny when she said it—I—I think she was Imperiused. I told her she was being stupid and not to take it to the school, but she wouldn't listen. I tried to grab it from her and—and—"

She let out a wail of despair. Eyebrows contracting in concern, Civia went to her and gently patted her on the back consolingly. Distressed for her friend, Leanne began sobbing, and Civia pulled the girl to her, giving her a shoulder to cry on, literally.

"It'll be alright, Leanne," she murmured, patting the girl on her back, trying to calm her down.

"She touched the necklace in the package," Hermione continued, "Katie rose into the air and began screaming terribly before she collapsed."

"Is Professor Dumbledore here, Ci—Professor Potter?" asked Harry.

Minerva replied, "The Headmaster is away until Monday." Of course, no one save Civia knew any different that the general belief that he was away on school or Ministerial business. He was actually hunting for horcruxes, the Potions Mistress knew.

"Away?" repeated Harry angrily.

"Harry!" she warned sharply.

"Yes, Potter, away!" replied Minerva tartly. "But anything you have to say about this horrible business can be said to Professors Snape, Potter, and I, I'm sure!"

As she saw Harry hesitate, glancing at Snape, Civia nodded to Harry, trying to get him to tell. Moving quickly, the Potions Mistress extracted herself from Leanne and hurried to the Potions cabinet not far away.

"I think Draco Malfoy gave Katie that necklace, Professors."

Civia's step faltered for a moment, shocked, but continued to the cabinet. She pulled the end of her knee-length frock coat up to use the fabric to carry the many potions. Hurrying back, she set them all, one by one onto the table at Katie's bedside.

First, she handed a potion for shock to Snape, motioning to the still sobbing Leanne. He nodded, accepting the vial, and went to give it to the girl.

At her side, Poppy was helping her administer the potions to Katie's unconscious form.

Then, Civia's wisteria eyes landed on the bundle of fabric on the table. She flicked her hand, and the scarf unfolded, revealing a necklace of silver and opals.

Behind her, the conversation continued.

"…very serious accusation, Potter," Minerva was saying, "Do you have any proof?"

"Well, no," Civia's nephew said awkwardly, obviously not hearing Snape's snort in disbelief, but continued confidently, "but…"

He explained his suspicions, and Civia listened patiently and silently to their debate. Her predecessor had moved to her side, as she levitated the necklace in the air, it spinning lazily as Civia silently cast incantations. Snape did the same.

Their eyes met, alarmed, coming to the same conclusion as the four students filed out of the Hospital Wing.

Minerva looked to them. "What is your conclusion?"

"Katie is lucky to be alive," the petite woman said calmly, grimly, before she and her predecessor set to work on confining the curse until Katie could be transported to St. Mungo's.

Later, after the girl had been moved to the wizarding hospital, the three staff remained, discussing the incident.

"The necklace is from Borgin and Burke's," the DADA professor stated calmly.

Civia nodded, agreeing. "Katie only touched it through a small hole in her glove. She is lucky that she was not dead within minutes."

The three professors met eyes, the same thought in their minds. "But who was it meant for?" murmured the Transfiguration Mistress, mostly to herself.

Snape and Civia could only meet eyes and remain silent, knowing ignorance was bliss.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**I'm sorry for the short chapters, but there will be exactly 21 when I'm done, and over 70,000 words in the entire series, if it is any consolation. I'll be updating quickly, once a week at the least. **

**BTW- If you haven't heard, I have made a trailer for this fic and posted it on youtube. The link is below. It is to the song "Hand of Sorrow" by Within Temptation-a beautiful song that eerily mirrors Severus' life; just look up the lyrics.**

http:/ www . youtube .com/ watch?v= fu4haGTkegk

**PLEASE LEAVE A COMMENT FOR THE VIDEO AND REVIEW FOR THE CHAPTER!**


	8. Most Unlikely of Places

**Chapter 8**

"_**Love is like wildflowers. It's often found in the most unlikely places."**_

– **Anonymous**

* * *

Eventually, Halloween had come, as well as the Halloween Staff Party.

Civia was not keen on attending. Flu season was coming, and she needed to stock up the Hospital Wing on Pepperup Potion for Poppy.

"It is an age-old tradition," Albus had said serenely, then added slyly, "And attendance is mandatory."

There was an air of gaiety and happiness in the staffroom, though it had been darker at first, with thoughts of the war on the mind, though alcohol quickly cheered up the mood.

While her colleagues socialized, Civia was trying to be inconspicuous in the corner, grading essays, sipping on a fine red wine from her own stores, though not enough to be drunk. Civia was very fond of wines, particularly red. It was one of her favorite interests, as well as, other than potions: reading, classical music, dancing, and flying.

Once she swiftly finished her grading, she'd shrunk the parchments and placed them in a robe pocket, but then produced her research calculations. The parchments were covered in Arithmancy and Muggle chemical formulas. She'd recently begun working on a new project, upon coming here, in case something happened to her during the war and she was captured.

"What are you drinking?" someone asked, making her jump. Looking up, she realized it was Snape.

"Mouton Rothschild, 1982," she replied, and his eyebrows went up.

"Rather fine taste for a _party_ like this," he smirked.

She shrugged. "I prefer Muggle red wines to Firewhiskey. The alcohol is still there, but the taste is better and there isn't a burn. Care for a glass, Professor Snape?"

"If you will, Professor Potter," he replied, offering her his empty glass. She filled it with the fine wine.

Albus—or who knew who else it might have been—had gotten some music to play, and most were dancing. The Headmaster and his Deputy were one couple, as well as tiny Filius with Pomona.

"Thank Merlin dancing isn't mandatory," she heard Snape mutter before taking a sip of wine. "Very fine flavor," he remarked.

Civia nodded. "It is. Please, call me Civia, not Professor Potter. It makes me feel old."

"If you are old, then so am I," he remarked, but then cast her a curious, doubtful glance. "How much of this wine _have_ you had?"

"Only this glass," she remarked dryly, taking a sip, "Despite my small stature, I am no lightweight, Professor Snape, if that is what you think."

Before he could reply, Albus and Minerva glided over, as the song had ended. "Civia," Albus said, "What are you doing?"

She looked at him over her glasses, "Working on my research, Albus."

"You work too much, my dear," he replied, "This is a party, you know. One would expect us old biddies to be the ones off the dance floor and you young people dancing."

Snape spoke up then, "Minerva, I do think he's calling you an old biddy too." Civia chuckled to herself, eyes back on the parchment.

"Oh, hush, Severus," said the Transfiguration Mistress, rolling her eyes. "Why aren't you two dancing, instead of hiding in the corner?"

The Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher glared. "Minerva, I do not dance."

"And I am working on Order business," said Civia, in a volume that only allowed the three near her to hear.

The Headmaster would have none of it. "Come now, Civia. You can work on that later. You should both dance at least once."

"Headmaster—" Snape began, disagreeing, but he was cut off.

"Severus Snape," scolded Minerva, "Albus is trying to tell you to quit glowering like a bat and socialize for once."

Giving up, Civia packed away her parchments into her pockets, shrunk. "Fine, fine," she muttered, "Don't even say anything, Minerva. I've put it away."

"Now you, Severus," instructed Minerva.

Snape glared.

"Severus, I do think that was her way of telling you to ask one of these women around here for a dance," the head of the Order said gently.

Shyly, Civia offered, "If you want, I'll dance with you, Professor Snape."

With a bitter glare at them all, he sighed and sourly said, "One dance, and then I am leaving, Albus, Minerva—and you _will_ leave me in solitude for the rest of the night."

He offered her his arm. Blushing, she took it and followed him to the dance floor.

Civia blushed harder when he laid a hand on the curve of her hip and took her right hand. Lightly, she placed her left hand on his shoulder.

As the music began, so did their steps and the rhythmic dance. For a long minute, they danced in silence to the classical music.

"I apologize for this," she eventually said softly.

His dark eyes had flicked to her face. "You aren't to blame," he replied tightly with a swift glare over her shoulder at the Headmaster.

Neither spoke as they spun.

Then, as they came out of the spin, Snape lowered her into a dip that was tantalizingly close to the ground. A sharp gasp escaped her lips, betraying her surprise as he pulled her upright, close and graceful. Another flush covered her face before the last had even faded.

They didn't speak until the end of the song, when they separated, he gave her a curt nod, and strode out of the room, cloak billowing behind him.

Even hours later, in bed, tossing and turning, Civia couldn't shake the memory of the feeling of his hand on her hip—warm, gentle, reassuring, and surprisingly intimate.

* * *

Time wore on.

After the Halloween Staff Party, Snape was still painfully formal to her, though Civia tried not to take it personally—she had yet to see him call anyone by their given name, save Albus and Minerva, or someone if he was mocking them. But since then, he had taken to helping her with potions for the infirmary or the Order on the weekends and weeknights when neither of them had to patrol the corridors, though their brewing time did not go without his share of sarcasm.

Eventually, Civia found herself in the Potions lab with him on the last Friday before Christmas break.

"Will you be staying at Hogwarts for break?" she asked as they waited for the batch of Polyjuice Potion to boil.

"Yes," Snape said, nodding. His dark eyes flicked to her. "I suppose you'll be spending it with Potter?" He sneered the surname.

Civia sighed. "You know, it is tiring when you call both Harry and I 'Potter'."

"But, unlike you," he pointed out, "his title is not Professor."

"True," she acknowledged, flipping through her old copy of _Moste Potente Potions_ that should have been thrown out long ago. "But, anyways, no. All the staff are needed these days, especially with Albus coming and going faster than the Room of Requirement. But Molly has invited me to join them all at the Burrow for Christmas Day. I'll leave early and be back before dusk." She shot him a grin. "You won't be without me for long, don't worry, Professor Snape."

Again, they fell silent for a few moments before she spoke up again. "But I do wish you would do me the honor of calling me Civia—it is my name, after all. I recall requesting you to call me by my first name at the staff party."

"Most of our colleagues have said the same," he replied stoically, "but I still refer to them by their titles."

A thin smile appeared on her lips, her eyes still on the book, "That's just you, Professor Snape." She shrugged. "But I still think it's different. You and I are friends, are we not?"

His eyebrows went up, surprised. Hers followed suit as she peered at him over the frames of her reading glasses. "We are friends, aren't we?" she asked softly, trying not to let the hurt into her tone.

Snape's obsidian eyes flicked to her, face softening slightly. "We are," he admitted, slight discomfort in his tone.

A relieved, elated smile appeared on her face. "Thank you. But if we are friends, call me Civia, please, Professor Snape."

He nodded. "Civia."

Lapsing into silence, they went back to work on the Polyjuice for the Order.

An hour later, as Snape headed to the door, he paused, and looked back to her.

"Severus."

Her gaze flicked to him, surprised.

"Call me Severus."

As he left, a small, soft smile curved her lips as she spoke in a whisper.

"Severus."


	9. Yuletide Magic

**Chapter 9**

"_**Christmas waves a magic wand over this world, and behold, everything is softer and more beautiful."**_

**Norman Vincent Peale**

* * *

Civia had finished her Christmas shopping early, and was prepared early on Christmas morning as she left her chambers. Before leaving, she snuck down to the kitchens.

Dobby spotted and was squealing in delight over seeing her again. "Professor Potter! Dobby is delighted to see you!"

The Potions Mistress had chuckled, squatting down to the house-elf's level. "I wanted to stop by, Dobby. First, I would like to thank you for looking after Harry while I could not. For that, I'd like to give you these."

She offered his a pair of plain white socks. "I enchanted them to change to change to whatever design you want, and to never shrink."

The house elf squealed in delight, hugging her, ecstatic.

"If you aren't busy, Dobby, would you mind making a few deliveries for me, too?" she asked. The house-elf assured her that he didn't, and she gave him a small stack of wrapped presents from the messenger style bag at her hip.

Twenty minutes later, she was entering the Burrow to find Molly and a few of her brood in the kitchen, preparing breakfast for her children and guests, who would include Tonks and Remus.

"Civia!" exclaimed Molly, bustling over and pulling her into a hug. "Oh, it's been too long!"

"Lovely to see you as ever, Molly," she said, smiling, "I can't thank you enough for allowing me to spend Christmas here!"

"Oh, what's another to join us? Arthur and I love having everyone here anyways!"

"Is that a new hat, Molly?" Civia asked.

The Weasley matriarch nodded, obviously pleased. "The twins get it and this necklace for me. Lovely how they've grown up!"

Just then, Ron and Harry stumbled down stairs.

"Harry!" Civia cried, rushing to him and pulling him into a tight hug, though he was much taller than she. "Happy Christmas!"

He laughed at her enthusiasm. "Merry Christmas, Aunt Civia."

She smacked him lightly on the arm. "I've told you—don't call me Aunt Civia. It makes me feel old, Harry."

"Can't have that—"

"—can we?"

The twins came up behind her, both putting one arm around her shoulders.

"Can't let this lovely young woman feeling old, can we, George?" asked Fred teasingly.

"Never, Fred!" replied George, laughing.

Civia chuckled. "Oh, hush you two. I'm not a young woman any longer, but I'm not too old yet. I'm young enough to hex you both into Monday, beware!"

The holiday continued, with the many Weasleys, and the soon-to-be-Weasley: Fleur Delacour, who apparently thought very highly of Civia for simply being related to Harry, who she seemed to hold in the highest esteem.

Most of the others seemed to dislike Fleur, though. Ginny was not happy whenever the French witch was around. At one point, Civia had been sitting next to the fifth year girl who had promptly huffed in annoyance and asked Civia, "Why can't Bill have a better taste in girls and asked _you_ or Tonks or anyone else to marry him?"

In response, the Potions Mistress had burst out laughing. "Ginny, I'm flattered you think that, but, to be honest, I'm ten years older than Bill."

"Really?" she had exclaimed.

Civia nodded. "I'll be thirty-seven in March…and now I'm really feeling old."

The two laughed for a long while.

At one point, Molly had been in the kitchen and suddenly exclaimed, "Arthur! Arthur—it's Percy!"

"_What?_"

Everyone went quiet and hurried to the windows. Civia was not left out of this.

"The Minister," she said, recognizing Percy Weasley's companion.

Civia watched as Molly greeted her son, suspicious of the motives of the Minister, silent.

Then: "…No, no I assure you I don't want to butt in! Well, if anyone cared to show me your charming garden….Ah, that young man's finished, why doesn't he take a stroll with me?"

Everyone froze, except Civia. "No." Her voice was firm and resolute.

Scrimgeour's amber eyes flicked to her, disproving. "At least," Civia grudgingly allowed, "Not alone in this climate."

"It is particularly cold out," murmured Bill absently.

Civia shook her head. "I was not referring to the weather." She motioned to Harry. "Come on, then."

"Wonderful!" the Minister exclaimed, leading Harry and her out of the house. Civia trailed behind them, listening silently for most of the conversation, and then Scrimgeour's proposal for lifting public moral.

"…These are dangerous times, and certain measures need to be taken. You are sixteen years old—"

"But neither Albus Dumbledore nor I are," Civia cut in abruptly, coldly. "Harry needs to remain at Hogwarts for both his safety and his studies. If he went to the ministry for such trivial means and got killed, how would that go for 'public moral'?"

"The Ministry would not allow that to—"

"Just as the Ministry did not allow Death Eaters and Voldemort himself to enter the Ministry in June—as well as six underaged students?"

Scrimgeour's yellow-amber eyes pierced hers coldly. "I am not a bumbling fool like Cornelius Fudge."

"I did not say so. And _I_," she calmly said, not a hint of anger on her delicate features, "am not as trusting as Albus Dumbledore. Not when my only flesh and blood left's life is on the line. I am truly sorry, Rufus, but I cannot allow this—endangering Harry, tricking the public, and wasting time."

He stared at her for a moment.

"I've waited a long time to meet you, Civia," he said.

"Professor Potter, if you please, Minister."

"Professor," he corrected himself tightly. "Thank you for your Veritaserum a few weeks ago."

Civia inclined her head, but then said, "I recommend trying it on Stan Shunpike."

He looked to Harry. "You're Dumbledore's man, through and through, aren't you?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah I am. Glad we straightened that out."

"Same here, Minister." Civia told him, as he watched the 'Boy-Who-Lived' hurry back into the home.

Scrimgeour surveyed her for a long moment as she swept past him to the house after her nephew. Before she reached the Burrow, the Minister spoke, and gave her the best compliment she could have hoped for.

"He certainly is your nephew, Professor Potter."

Later that evening, Civia apparated from the Burrow and was quietly walking from the gates up to the castle. Having cast a warming charm on herself, she tarried near the lake, watching snowflakes swirl and dance merrily in the crisp air.

Slowly, she headed inside the castle.

Thinking to herself, she hadn't heard the footsteps behind her. "What do you think you're—oh, Civia."

The Potions Mistress turned to find Sn—_Severus_ right behind her, wand lit, illuminating the dark hall.

"I thought you were a student out of bed," he explained quietly, lowering his wand.

She nodded with a twist to her lips. "Yes, that's happened thrice before with the others. I'm getting quite used to it…I trust your Christmas was pleasant?"

"It was adequate," he admitted.

Her eyes found the scarf at his neck and she smiled softly. "I see Dobby delivered your presents."

"Yes. The House elf was most excited to finally deliver a present to me," he said, fingering the hand-knit emerald and navy scarf, "I was…impressed by the watch you gave me as well."

As he spoke, Severus lifted his hand, exposing said watch's face.

There were a few hands—more than the typical clock, but less than the Weasley clock. Along the edge, in place of numbers were the words: Hogwarts, Home, Travelling, Lost, Hospital, Prison, Out of Country, and Mortal Peril. On each hand was a picture of a face and a name. Severus himself was one, as well as Albus, Minerva, and, she was surprised to see, herself.

Her wisteria gaze flew to him curiously.

"I added Minerva so I know when she's nearby and to avoid her," he muttered, "and I'm going to add your blasted nephew since it is my task to protect him, and other members of the Order."

"Why…me?" she asked, touched that he cared enough.

He looked to her with a mischievous gleam in his onyx gaze. "We are friends, are we not?"

Another heartfelt smile touched her face as she recalled saying the exact same words to him before. "Thank you, Severus. That means a lot to me."

He paused and withdrew a small wrapped present from his cloak pocket. "I asked Dobby to wrap it for me," he muttered in defense of the emerald and gold wrapping paper.

As she held it in her hands and started to open it, his right hand rested gently on hers. "Wait until you get to your quarters, please."

Civia nodded. "Of course. Thank you Severus, really. It means a lot to me." She paused, her eyes moving from the gift to his face. "You know, I really didn't expect this from you." But her voice trailed away as she saw a furious look cross his face. Following his gaze, she blushed brilliantly.

Above them, hanging from the ceiling, was some of Albus' blasted mistletoe.

With a snarl, he waved his wand at it, and the blooming sprig burst into flames. He sheathed his wand and stalked away, luckily missing the slightly hurt look on Civia's face.

She didn't know why it had hurt, but it had. The keen, sharp pain of rejection surfaced in her heart, and she winced. She hadn't really thought of him like that—not consciously, at least—but she was rejected before she even did anything. Normally, refutation didn't bother her, but it was the fact that it was from him that hurt. Shoulders slumped, she had gone sadly to her quarters, absently laying the present on the table, forgotten from her mind.


	10. Like Tears

**Chapter 10**

"_**Kisses are like tears, the only real ones are the ones you can't hold back." **_

**~Author Unknown**

The next morning, Civia saw the package and remembered it. Hesitantly, she carefully unwrapped the gift and opened the lid of the box, then gasped and lifted out its contents.

A beautiful, delicate small gold charm bracelet had rested in the slim box, with two small charms hanging from it—a tiny, delicate gold screech owl with sparkling sapphires for eyes and a matching screech owl, slightly larger, with shining emeralds for eyes. One of the owls was modeled after a female and the other a male, she figured out.

It was beautiful.

Carefully, she put it on her wrist and was glad to see it fit well.

Still smiling, she cheerfully went down to breakfast, to thank Severus for his kindness and the beauty of the gift.

Albus seemed full of foolish, unnecessary cheer. Apparently, in addition to a Halloween Staff Party, he had also decided to have a New Years Staff Party, as he couldn't have a Christmas party.

Attendance wasn't mandatory, and because of this, Civia had been shocked to see Severus come in. He inclined his head to Albus' greeting and continued on to where Civia was sitting, away from most of the staff.

"I didn't expect to see you here, Severus," she said, closing the magazine she had.

The DADA teacher shrugged. "I thought I may as well enjoy some wine here and watch our colleagues' drunken follies rather than simply enjoy it in solitude."

She chuckled. "Trust you to come up with a reason like that. So, care for a glass of wine?"

He nodded, conjuring a glass and offered it to her. She poured a liberal amount into his glass and topped of hers.

"A toast?" she asked.

"To a year hopefully filled with less dunderheads," Severus suggested, a smirk on his lips.

Civia chuckled. "To that, and a year that hopefully includes Voldemort's demise!"

Their glasses clinked together softly and they both sipped the red wine.

He paused, then asked her, "More of your Mouton Rothschild, 1982?"

She nodded. "The last of it. I figured I'd better finish off the bottle to finish off the year."

Taking another sip, Severus said, "You have a good taste in wine."

With a smile, she inclined her head. "Thank you. I enjoy wines, particularly red wines, as I told you. They're some of my favorite beverages."

"_The Practical Potioneer_?" the former Potions teacher asked, almost sneering, dark gaze finding the periodical she'd set aside. She nodded, knowing his derision was for the ignorant twits who managed to get their babble published in the magazine.

"I saw your article on theories for Wolfsbane last month," she said offhandedly. "I quite agree with your suggestion of the use of Re'em blood—that's quite brilliant."

With enthusiasm—though hidden on his part, she saw it in the look in his eyes—, they continued, discussing theories and ideas and potions.

Hours later, they fell silent, in their side by side chairs, as their colleagues counted down. Silently, she raised her glass, and he did the same, toasting.

"…HAPPY NEW YEAR!" everyone chorused.

On a bit of a whim, Civia leaned forward, and gently pressed her lips to his cheek. He stiffened and she immediately pulled away, blushing.

Luckily, no one had seen, as far as she could tell. Everyone was '_ooh_'ing as Albus gave Minerva a peck on the cheek.

"I'm…sorry," she whispered, cheeks colored like the famous Weasley hair.

His eyes flashed to hers, ire and fury in his obsidian glare. Without a word, Severus stood and stormed from the staff room. No one seemed to notice, except the Headmaster and his Deputy.

Flinching at the sound of the door slamming shut behind him, Civia looked down sadly at the glass of wine in her hand.

Just brilliant, she thought, magicking her un-drunk wine back into the bottle before summoning the bottle of Firewhiskey from the far table. A liberal amount of the amber liquid filled her glass before she was satisfied and downed it.

Staring into the depths of the amber Firewhiskey, Civia felt like slapping herself. She had managed to secure his friendship after months, and had apparently lost it in a matter of seconds. Somehow, that thought hurt more than she expected.

"Find him."

She looked up, startled, to see Minerva standing beside her. "Go find him, Civia. Severus is not used to much socializing. He isn't every good with positive emotions, in a way. You're good for him, and it has done him some good to have a friend like you. Don't let it go to a waste."

Civia nodded and stood before hurrying from the staff room.

* * *

Half an hour later, Civia found him in the Astronomy Tower, arms crossed, resting on the parapet, as he stared at the night sky.

Quietly, she laid a hand on his shoulder. He flinched away. "Don't," his voice was ice cold as he spoke.

"Don't what?" she asked quietly, trying to understand.

He stepped away from her. "Don't pretend to like me, Professor Potter."

"Why would I pretend that, Severus?" Hurt colored her bewildered tone.

His eyes flashed to hers. "You're just like your brother!" he spat bitterly. "Arrogant, obnoxious, boastful, proud, impertinent, attention-seeking, and conceited!"

Determination blazed in her eyes and she reached up and grabbed him by his chin and forced Severus to look at her. "Severus, I know you hate my brother—but he is dead. He has been dead for over fifteen years, and you need to let go of this irrational hatred of all Potters because of it. I know he tortured you at school. I had to live with him through my entire life—childhood and Hogwarts years, including summers! What do you think he did when we were at home? He hexed me worse than you! Before Hogwarts, I was his punching bag for most of the time! I have scars from his spells! I was as much his victim as you!"

Gently, she let him go, leaning heavily on the railing, looking to the stars as she softly continued, hands fiddling with her bracelet. "But look at me and compare us! Please, Severus! I'm begging you. I am your friend and I value our friendship more than you'd think."

The last sentence was soft, and hardly audible, but held more emotion than the rest of her words.

They were silent for a long moment.

Beside Civia, Severus was lost in thought. At first, he'd thought she had kissed him because she was tricking him, playing with his emotions—something her twin would have done, had he been a girl.

Part of him knew he shouldn't befriend her. It endangered not only her but also his role as a spy.

But when she had begun nearly yelling at him, his tiny hand holding his chin, he hadn't liked it, but he had to admit she had a point. Even from when he remembered seeing of her in their school days, she'd not been a trouble maker. But, also…he couldn't help but admit, she'd been quite, well, beautiful as she'd yelled, in her anger—uniquely beautiful eyes blazing; her slender, delicate hands holding his chin, gentle but firm in her making him look at her; the erratic mass of ebony curls was even more chaotic because of the cold wind; breast heaving from her deep breaths…

It discomforted him, seeing her like this and the feelings she brought up in him. It made him realize how much the thought that she was doing it all to play with his emotions—something her brother would do—hurt, how much it hurt more that he expected.

As she suddenly let go of his chin, they stood side by side, staring out towards the Black Lake, silently lost in thoughts. A flash of gold caught his eyes and he looked down to see a delicate gold charm bracelet hanging from her wrist—the bracelet he'd given her that he'd been left from his mother.

Could it be possible, he wondered uneasily, that she was more dear to him that as just a friend? The thought was foreign to him, something he'd never expected. For as long as he could remember, he'd been in love with Lily, even though she'd never known, even though they'd fought, even though she'd married Potter, even though she was gone…

Looking back slightly, Severus realized that, somewhere between the beginning of the school year and now, Lily's memory had lost its grip on him. Was it because of time or her, Civia?

It wasn't safe. Not for anyone—the Order, Dumbledore, Hogwarts, the blasted Potter brat, himself, or most especially her. He'd have to speak with Albus about a plan…

For now, Severus had to deal with this. It wasn't safe for her to be close to him. He didn't want her to be in danger…friendship or no. And if sacrificing that friendship meant saving her life, then there was no choice for him to make.

* * *

As the silence consumed them, Civia stared up at the night sky, spotting constellations and stars she knew. There, to the north way up high was Ursa Minor and Ursa Major, and between them was Draco, the serpent. Andromeda was just above the horizon to the north. Further, to the west, over the horizon, peeked Orion, which contained the stars Sirius (the Dog Star) and Bellatrix (ironically Latin for 'female warrior'), she knew. To the south, the moon was over the horizon, a waning gibbous, with Mars just above it...

When Severus, at her right, heaved a sigh, her eyes darted to him.

"Severus?" she attentively asked, though timidly.

He looked to her, face blank. "What, Professor Potter?"

For a moment, her grip tightened on the rail, her knuckles whitening, as her face, in contrast, reddened.

With a furious "Ugh!", Civia took a step back, releasing her grip, though her hands tightening into shaking fists.

"Goddamn it, Severus!" she spat, throwing her hands in the air. "Don't just start pulling this act! I know what you're doing, what you've always done.

"You shove everyone away—_everyone_—the staff, Albus, Minerva, me—for our supposed safety, but don't you get it? There's no point, it's no use! I'm the only living relative of Harry Potter, a member of the Order of the bloody Phoenix, and, if I may say so, a rather powerful pureblooded witch! Voldemort will either want to kill me or make me join his ranks! I'm in danger already. I'd rather enjoy my life with friends and my nephew while I can, and that means you're included. You're one of my best friends I have...and I don't have many.

"And if you want to ruin that," she paused, melancholy replacing ire, "then go ahead."

With a sad look on her face, she walked to the door leading to the staircase from the tower. Pausing, Civia glanced back sadly, her voice soft and gentle, beseeching. "Severus, do not mistake this as something like your argument with Lily. It will never be too late to mend this."

Then, she swept from the tower without another word or look to the man she left behind.

* * *

**Hm. Romance already beginning to bloom. It's going to get interesting.**

**Okay, come on guys. If you REALLY want to read this, you need to review!**

**REVIEW! **

**But speaking of reviews, I want to thank one special reviewer, **emzigale07**, who wrote one awesome review! So I dedicate this chapter to her-she rocks!**

**Now, if there are any artists out there who would care to draw Civia for me...I WOULD LOVE THEM FOREVER AND THEY WOULD WIN AN EXCLUSIVE SNEAK PEEK AT THE REST OF PART ONE! But not some hasty sketch. Quality work is highly appreciated. You can post it on Deviantart. I have an account on there under the username of **civia-snape

REVIEW!


	11. Owl

**Chapter 11**

**Athena: the Greek goddess of war, wisdom, strategy, craft, justice, and skill, symbolized by the owl. **

* * *

Three days later, that Saturday, she'd been stirring the large batch of the Polyjuice-in-progress she and Severus had started, when there had been a knock on the door to her private laboratory.

With her back to the door, she didn't glance behind her as she stirred, simply called, "Come in!"

Not really having many expectations for his trip to Civia's laboratory, Severus certainly had not expected the sight that greeted him after her voice bade him entrance.

Civia was bent over an immense cauldron—taller than her waist—as she stirred the Polyjuice inside. Her raven curls had even more volume to them because of the fumes, frizzing up to a surprising size, even though the sable tendrils were restrained in a thick plait down her spine. Even still, a few locks had escaped, framing her delicate face with dark locks. Her pale cheeks were pink because of the warmth from the flames.

But that wasn't the unexpected part. Normally, whenever Severus brewed with her, Civia had worn her typical frock coat. Obviously, she hadn't been expecting anyone to come in. Instead, she was dressed in muggle attire. A low cut, formfitting sapphire camisole allowed tantalizing glimpses of her alluring breasts, delicate shoulders, and slender neck. Cut-off denim shorts went only to mid-thigh, showing off her round hips, long legs, toned calves, and small, graceful feet clad in sandals. As she turned, an enticing view of her derriere greeted Severus.

The overall sight made him freeze. Her eyes widened in realization and her cheeks reddened. She muttered an incantation, casting a Stasis spell on the potion, set down the stirring rod, and summoned her outer robes and hurriedly put them on.

"I—I apologize, Severus," she stammered. "I wasn't expecting—"

He shook his head. "It was alright. I was uninvited. I simply presumed we would be brewing, as normal?"

It was a question, she sensed. A small, grateful smile graced her lips. "Of course. I just wasn't sure if you were coming."

Severus paused in the doorway, "Civia, I'm…I—"

"It's alright, Severus," she interrupted, with a soft smile, taking the Stasis spell of the potion. "I know. Now, can you help me stir this? It isn't easy when the cauldron is nearly taller than me!"

Civia's breath caught as he came behind her and placed his hand over hers to smoothly transfer the stirring rod from her hand to his long-fingered hand. Forcing herself not to flush, she tried to ignore the feel of his chest pressed against her back.

Moving quickly, she removed herself from near him, forcing the flush from her face.

Clearing her throat, Civia said, "Thank you, Severus. I appreciate your help. To be honest, I had not expected you to come, but I am glad you did. I'm terribly glad my…inappropriate actions did not ruin our friendship."

Going to the storage closet, she swiftly returned with the fluxweed and began preparing it.

* * *

No more words were spoken as they brewed, each lost in their art. No words were needed. Each was thinking of the other, thinking of their emotions, thinking of their friendship. Usually, whenever silence fell between two people, it was awkward, but it was not so for them. Civia found it to be a pleasant, companionable silence, made better simply by the knowledge that she wasn't alone in her lab.

When they were finished with the Polyjuice for the day, needing to allow it to stew for now, they set to work on brewing Wolfsbane for Remus Lupin, as the full moon was approaching and Severus usually brewed it for him anyways.

After Civia finished stirring the potion and had to let it simmer for half an hour, she went to the supply closet to retrieve the next ingredients so she and Severus could prepare them.

But as she returned with the jar, she paused, looking at Severus. He was different when he was here, compared to when out in the rest of the castle. Outside, where students could bumble along at any moment, he had a rigid posture, stiff and suiting to the feared dungeon bat of a Potions Master. But in here, Severus relaxed, and his motions were smoother, less stiff, and more graceful. Something in his face changed too—maybe it was how the lines on his face from scowling smoothed out, or that his sneers had less hostility. In a way, he let his guard down—or as much as he could, given his status as a spy.

It touched her that Severus trusted her so much.

A small smile played on her lips as she continued walking.

But the distraction of her thoughts threw off her usually impeccable grace in the potions lab. She stumbled forward. Having looked up, the Potions Master moved forward to try and catch her, but only succeeded in getting pulled down with Civia to the ground.

She ended up on her back, her legs across Severus' lap, her robe fallen open, and camisole ridden up slightly . . . with her face a brilliant Weasely red.

Severus' cheeks were, surprisingly, tinged pink—the closest to a blush as he'd ever get.

"I—I'm sorry, Severus," stammered Civia, nearly scrambling to her feet, but then winced as she stood.

His eyes didn't miss the small flinch. "Are you alright, Civia?"

"I think I landed wrong on my right ankle," she muttered, wincing again as she sat down carefully in a nearby chair.

The DADA teacher knelt beside her, gently taking her right foot in his hands. With gentle, precise hands, he ran both hands along her ankle and calf, feeling the muscles and bones, looking for a break or other injury.

A gasp slipped from her lips that had nothing to do with the pain.

"Nothing broken," he said, his voice smooth as ever, "But you should take it easy, Civia." He paused, looking at her right ankle closely. "What's this?"

Civia flushed. "A muggle tattoo. It's an—"

"I know what tattoos are, Civia," he said as the corners of his mouth twitched in amusement. "Why this one?"

She shrugged. "Well, I've always loved owls. They're so graceful and beautiful. Owls have nearly always been considered symbols of wisdom, intelligence, and truth. And, of course, there's my Animagus form."

Severus' head tilted as he looked at the tattoo. But then he released her and stood to continue on the potion.

"It fits you."

Civia did not miss the thoughtfulness in his tone, and her heart warmed again at his compliment.

**

* * *

**

**TATTOO:**

http:/ browse. deviantart . com/ traditional/ ?q=owl%20tattoo& order=9&offset=24#/d1avy72

But it is all black ink, no yellow.

**REVIEW PLEASE PEOPLE!**


	12. Understanding Time

**Chapter 12**

"_**If you want to understand today, you have to search yesterday." **_

**~ Pearl Buck**

* * *

A few days after the students returned from their break—and Albus with them—said Headmaster, Harry, and Civia were one of Harry's lessons on Voldemort's past. Civia didn't attend all of them, as she'd seen them all, but had to be here for this one.

Harry was telling them about his suspicions of Malfoy and their meeting with the Minister. "…He accused me of being 'Dumbledore's man through and through.'"

"How very rude of him."

"I told him I was."

There was silence as Albus opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again. Beside Civia, Fawkes gave a soft, musical cry from his perch. Watching the two with pride in her eyes for her nephew, she absently stroked the phoenix's plumage. Albus' bright eyes grew damp and a few tears fell into his beard. Harry looked down to his knees, embarrassed.

"I am very touched, Harry."

As they continued, with Civia sitting in the background watching proudly, she was smiling softly to herself as she gently petted the brilliant bird beside her. When they finished, the three of them entered the memory of her former Potions Professor Horace Slughorn.

Later, Harry asked, "Who exactly _was_ this Professor Slughorn?"

Civia snorted, amused. "A very influential man," she replied, eyes absently staring at Fawkes still. "He was the Head of Slytherin during your parents' and my time at school. Slughorn picked favorites, including them in an exclusive club for anyone who was talented, clever, intelligent, charming, ambitious, famous, or related to anyone famous or influential. He had a knack for picking those who would go on to become outstanding in their field. He liked to get close to them, to give influence over them. But no matter what he did for them, he always got something in return from them."

". . .were you . . . ?" Harry hesitantly began.

Civia chuckled again. "Most unfortunately. Lily was in as well, and Slughorn took a particular liking to Severus, Lily, and I—his prodigious potioneers. I never cared for the meetings, though. To the most part, it included those who are now wanted Death Eaters," she scowled, annoyed. "Like Lucius Malfoy."

Her nephew grimaced. "'_Severus_'?" he asked dubiously.

"We are colleagues, you know," she sighed, trying to ignore the blush on her cheeks. "And unlike you, Harry, I have a talent and affinity for both Potions and Defense, something in common with him." She frowned to herself and added in a mutter, "Though I practically had to beat it into his brain that I'm not James."

Albus chuckled to himself as Civia explained her friendship with the Potions Master, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, though neither Potters saw.

". . .So you knew Malfoy's dad in school?" Harry asked curiously.

Civia scowled. "Even more unfortunately, yes. He was a terrible bully, you know. Dear _Lucy_ mocked me because of my height…although he stopped when a first year girl landed him in the hospital wing."

As Harry roared with laughter at her nickname for him, Albus chuckled and said, "Oh yes, I remember. There were no witnesses to the incident, and Lucius insisted it was a little Ravenclaw first year bookworm. We could never prove it was you…And how old was he at the time, Civia, I forget…"

The Potions Mistress colored brightly. "He…may have been seventeen…"

Harry laughed harder. "What'd you do?"

"Irrelevant, Harry," she replied with an amused grin. "Back to Slughorn. He altered his memory, and we need the truth. He has been and will_ always_ be a sucker for famous people. In the past year alone, Albus and I have gotten - what was it? - six letters requesting to meet you. And to the most recent one last week, I acquiesced. This weekend you and I will leave and meet him and convince him to hand over the memory."

"What if he doesn't agree to it?" Harry asked confused.

Civia and Albus' eyes met before she stood and went to stand before a window with her stiff back to them. "It is absolutely necessary to gain this memory, Harry. Many people's survival depends on it, including your own. If he will not, I will have to use force to remove it."

"Will that hurt him?" asked Harry, shocked.

She snorted. "It is only Legilimency, Harry. I will not be barging in and wrecking around. Legilimency is an art of subtlety—not force or pain. There will not be any reason to use true force—he is not, by any means, a skilled Occlumens. Well," she amended with a thoughtful look as she turned back to them, "not in comparison to my Legilimency skills. Legilimency will not, however, be our back-up plan, should he refuse to hand it over. He is _very_ susceptible to flattery and any alcohol, which _is_ our back up plan, should asking nicely fail."

Saturday afternoon found Harry and Civia walking down a muggle street to the muggle home Slughorn was using at the time.

As they had left the castle, Civia had tossed him a vial, which he caught easily. Examining it, he recognized it from the first lesson of the year. "Er—is this—"

"Felix Felicis," she nodded. "I finished it this morning, so it is nice and fresh and potent. Take all of it—one teaspoon—enough for twelve hours, plenty of time. We'll need luck. I already took some."

Harry was in a muggle t-shirt and jeans and his trainers—usual enough clothes for him. Civia honestly didn't go into the muggle world that often, but had clothes from it and could blend in well. However, her frock coat was not a common muggle article of clothing, and was forced to change.

She didn't completely abandon the general design, trading it in for a black thick wool coat that fell to her knees. It had wide lapels and six large buttons. Civia liked it quite a bit. Not to mention the thick, long sleeves allowed her to hide her wand within one.

**Coat: ****http:/www (dot) overstock (dot) com (slash) Clothing-Shoes (slash) Via-Spiga-Womens-Cashmere-Blend-Wool-Walker-Coat (slash) 4256908 (slash) product (dot) html**

When they entered the garden gate, Civia tensed and murmured, "Wand out, Harry." The teen reluctantly complied, confused, before he saw the scene of destruction before them.

A scene of total devastation met their eyes. A grandfather clock lay splintered at their feet, its face cracked, its pendulum lying a little farther away like a dropped sword. A piano was on its side, its keys strewn across the floor. The wreckage of a fallen chandelier flittered nearby. Cushions lay deflated, feathers oozing from slashes in their sides; fragments of glass and china lay like powder over everything. Civia raised her wand even higher, so that its light was thrown upon the walls, where something darkly red and glutinous was spattered over the wallpaper. Harry's small intake of breath made his aunt look around.

"Not pretty, is it?" she murmured, deep in thought.

"Maybe there was a fight and — and they dragged him off, Civia?" Harry suggested, trying not to imagine how badly wounded a man would have to be to leave those stains spattered halfway up the walls.

"I don't think so," said the Potions Mistress quietly, peering behind an overstuffed armchair lying on its side.

"You mean he's —?"

"Still here somewhere? Yes." _Obviously, boy_, she thought absently. . .

And without warning, she swooped, plunging the tip of his wand into the seat of the overstuffed armchair, which yelled, "Ouch!"

"Good evening, sir," said Civia, straightening up again, with a small grin.

Harry's jaw dropped. Where a split second before there had been an armchair, there now crouched an enormously fat, bald, old man who was massaging his lower belly and squinting up at the professor with an aggrieved and watery eye.

"There was no need to poke me that hard," he said gruffly, clambering to his feet. "It hurt."

The wandlight sparkled on his shiny pate, his prominent eyes, his enormous, silver, walruslike mustache, and the highly polished buttons on the maroon velvet jacket he was wearing over a pair of lilac silk pajamas. Despite his short height, the top of Civia's head barely reached his chin.

"What gave it away?" he grunted as he staggered to his feet, still rubbing his lower belly. He seemed remarkably unabashed for a man who had just been discovered pretending to be an armchair.

"If the Death Eaters really had come to call, the Dark Mark would have been set over the house."

The wizard clapped a pudgy hand to his vast forehead. "The Dark Mark," he muttered. "Knew there was something… ah well. Wouldn't have had time anyway, I'd only just put the finishing touches to my upholstery when you entered the room."

"Very nice job, by the way," she murmured, as she waved a hand dismissively and the damage to the home began to repair itself, "but the dragon blood would have given it away to anyone with post-OWL Potions education."

Horace shook his head. "Always too bright, you were, Miss Potter. I didn't know you were coming today—is it still Miss Potter, or have I missed a wedding announcement?"

She laughed. "Of course not. I doubt I'll be marrying anytime soon." After all, the only man she was even really friendly with was Severus—and the thought of him asking a woman to marry him was so unlikely it was funny. "Ah," she continued, "Well, I took up your old post, you know, so grading and all takes up my Sunday, and Quidditch practice for Harry."

The ex-potions teacher suddenly seemed to realize Harry was present, just as she intended.

"Oho!" he exclaimed, eyes flying to the infamous scar. "_Oho!_"

Harry's eyes found hers and she returned his gaze with a wan smile that clearly said _I warned you_. "Sir, this is my nephew, Harry. Harry, this is my old Potions Professor, Horace Slughorn."

* * *

Nearly quarter of an hour later, after Harry and Horace chatted about Lily and James and others in his Slug Club, Civia suddenly exclaimed, "Ah, Horace, I forgot to mention, but I brought you this, to make up for us imposing upon you like this."

As she rummaged in her pocket, the ex-teacher chortled. "You aren't imposing at all, m'dear! Always lovely to see an old student—especially one of my best Potions students!"

"Here we go," she murmured, pulling out a minute object in a palm. Flicking her other hand, the object grew into a bottle of wine.

"Some of Rosmerta's oak-matured mead," she said, handing it to Horace. "I thought you would like it. After all, it was your favorite back when I was your student, was it not?"

"Sharp as a tack," Horace muttered proudly. "How's about a glass now?"

Conjuring three glasses, she nodded to him. As he poured the mead, she gave Harry a sharp look and shake of her head, telling him not to drink it. He tilted his head in understanding.

Handing them glasses, Civia rose hers and toasted, "To Harry Potter, the Chosen One."

Horace raised his and took a deep draught from his and Civia pretended to take a delicate sip. Of course, she could have—she'd tasted much more potent alcohol and remained sober—but decided not to unless their little outing grew too long and her full glass became suspicious.

With small talk distracting him, Horace hardly noticed Civia refilling his glass time and time again.

Harry took over then, asking about his mother, who had been a soft spot to the ex-Potions teacher.

When he was barely sober enough to keep his wits, Civia asked, "Professor, I know Lily was very dear to you. She died, standing up for the light and protecting her son, the boy before you.

"Sir, I know that one day, in 1945, in the boy know as Tom Riddle asked you in your office about Horcruxes, and I know Albus asked you about it."

"He put you up to this," he muttered angrily, but weakly.

"Horace, you don't understand," she snapped, standing. "Lily Evans, later Potter, and my brother gave their lives to protect Harry. My brother and my sister-in-law died to protect him. And now he is laying his life on the line almost every year since he was eleven, to fight Voldemort—not only to save the wizarding world, but also to avenge James and Lily.

"That memory—the true memory—can help avenge Lily's death, to stop her murderer, before he kills the only flesh and blood of Lily and James," her voice was soft now, pleading.

"She gave her life, but you can't give us a memory," Harry put in quietly.

Horace seemed to deflate. "You don't understand. It isn't a question . . . If it were to help you, of course . . . but no purpose can be served…"

"It can," Harry said. "We need the information. I need the information.

"I am the Chosen One. I have to kill him. I need that memory."

Horace paled, his shiny forehead gleaming with sweat now. "You…you are?"

The Felix Felicis was agreeing with Harry to tell him—he wouldn't remember in the morning anyways. Despite having a considerable amount of weight more than she, Horace was the largest lightweight ever—literally and figuratively.

"Of course I am," he replied calmly, and Civia felt a rush of pride. From what Albus had shared, he had shied from the idea of ever accepting being the 'Boy Who Lived' or the 'Chosen One'. But now had accepted it and was embracing it, making this step to defeat Voldemort.

"You…you're asking a great deal…you're asking me, in fact, to aid you in your attempt to destroy—"

"You don't want to get rid of the wizard who killed Lily Evans?"

"Harry, of course I do, but—"

"You're scared he will find out you helped us." Civia guessed.

He looked terrified and did not speak. Civia continued softly. "Professor, you must understand. It is vital that we get this memory. It will be the difference between our deaths and our survival. When my nephew's life is on the line, I will stop at nothing to protect him. And if Legilimency is what it takes, I won't hesitate, sir. I'm sorry. Please, sir. We need it . . ."

She trailed of, her and Harry's eyes meeting.

"Be brave, sir," Harry said, pleadingly, "Be brave like my mother."

Horace trembled for a moment, one hand covering his mouth.

"I am not proud…" he whispered shakily, "I am ashamed of what—of what the memory shows . . . I think I may have done great damage that day . . ."

"You'd cancel out anything you did by giving me the memory," Harry said. "It would be a very brave and noble thing to do."

There was a long silence, which neither Harry nor Civia broke, knowing not to thanks to Felix. Then, very slowly, Slughorn pulled out his wand and put it to his temple. As he pulled it away, something long and silvery—neither liquid nor gas—clung to the tip of his wand. Civia hastily conjured a flask and held it out to him. Hand still shaking, Horace lowered the memory into the flask, and it swirled like a gas, but flowed like a liquid.

The Potions Mistress corked the flask. "Thank you, Professor. You don't know what it means to us. This is priceless."

Horace looked to Harry, teary-eyed. "You're a good boy, I can tell. And you've got her eyes…."

He looked back to his former student. "You don't know what he was like…even then…" He paused. "Just don't think too badly of me once you've seen it…."

The ex-Potions teacher laid his head down in his arms on the table, gave a great sigh, and fell asleep.

As they walked from the gates to the castle, Harry asked, "Civia, will he be alright?"

She smiled sadly. "Yes. I suppose he will need a hangover potion in the morning—he's always been a lightweight. But he won't remember a thing about giving us the memory."

"I feel bad for tricking him," the sixth year muttered.

Civia nodded. "As do I, but it must be done…Albus will be pleased we did not have to use force. Come. It is late…"

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Thank you to the anonymous reviewer "Bookworm" for the 20th review! **

**Seven reviews before the next chapter please! I swear, next chapter is my favorite of Part One! I can't wait for your responses!**

**So, the quicker the better! **

**Review!  
**


	13. Strong Enough to Kill You

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, I'm publishing this early. Oh well. This is my favorite chapter anyways... BWA HA HA. You'll why. Read on...**

**

* * *

Chapter 13**

"_**It is the things you cannot see coming that are strong enough to kill you." **_

**~ Jodi Picoult**

* * *

March came quickly, with more rain and wind—and Civia and Severus growing closer every passing day, even if you had to look closely to see it.

It was custom for there to be a staff meeting the first day of every month, as well as two weeks later in the middle of the month.

After the first March staff meeting, the two Potions experts were in their now-customary corner. It was a Saturday, and there was no need for them to hurry off to do rounds for now.

As almost usual, with both of them preferring more refined tastes than Firewhiskey and Butterbeer, Civia had brought a new bottle of elf-made wine.

"I was originally going to give this to Albus for Christmas," she explained as she poured two glasses. "But I remembered that he preferred oak-matured mead and bought him a bottle last time I was in London instead."

"To only four more months until we are free of students," Severus said, raising his glass.

Civia laughed but clinked her glass against her own. "Surely they aren't that bad," she said before taking a generous sip.

He paused, his glass almost to his smirking lips. "A few are adequate, but most are irrevocably dunder—"

"Severus!"

A shattering sound followed as the wine glass slipped from her fingers.

Her voice was suddenly a desperate croak, her face chalky white. She made to move to stand, but crumpled back into the armchair. Her limbs were trembling uncontrollably, eyes wide and bulging.

"_Civia!_"

If the shattering of the wine glass hadn't grabbed everyone's attention, the Potions Master's sudden call had.

Her face was blue and she was twitching, choking—

"Poppy!" Albus exclaimed, and both he and the matron, followed by Minerva rushed over.

"She was poisoned," Poppy exclaimed immediately, panicky. "Severus, do you have any antido—"

But said man wasn't listening. One hand was groping in his pocket and the other opening her mouth.

Finally, he found what he was searching for—a small, shriveled kidneylike stone he kept on him at all times.

Moving with a swift and precise urgency, Severus opened her small, blue lips and thrust the bezoar into her mouth.

The woman gave an immense shudder, a rattling gasp—and suddenly fell still and limp.

The staff room was silent, not one person breathing, not daring to break the silence of fragile hope.

* * *

"…Surely they aren't that bad," Civia said before taking a generous sip of the fine blood-red liquid.

Then, there was an aftertaste…bitter and strange…certainly nothing like wine…more like…

Her eyes widened. Almonds—like bitter almonds—

Pain hit her in the chest, in her heart suddenly, as she was aware of Severus speaking before her, oblivious of his friend's plight…as he raised his glass of the poisoned wine towards his lips…closer to himself being poisoned—no, he couldn't be poisoned too—not him, not—"_Severus!_"

A shattering sound followed as the wine glass slipped from her numb fingers.

The air was gone from her lungs, leaving her shaking and breathless, pale as the silvery Grey Lady, heart fluttering faster than a hummingbird's wings.

Civia's eyes flew to Severus' alarmed, piercing obsidian eyes. Pain blossoming through her from her chest, the Potions Mistress desperately made a move towards him, to stand, but instantly collapsed into the chair as convulsions shook her body, the pain engulfing her as her vision blurred and distorted into whirls of color, the last of which to disappear the nearing ebony eyes, almost frantic…

She still couldn't breathe, and her lungs were on fire—and her pulse began to plummet.

Then the clutches of her consciousness and awareness were swallowed by the fire in her chest…

Her last thought was a plea, a prayer that he hadn't been poisoned too…

…_Severus…_

It was mirrored by the last word she heard before she slipped away. It made fear clutch onto her heart as she heard the only frightened word she ever heard from Severus. It burst out in a single word that embodied all the terror in her heart as she slipped away—

"_Civia!"_

**

* * *

A/N: Any guesses about the poison? It's a real-life poison—not a potion like in the book. I've given you a major clue! You might get a sneak peak at the next chapter!**


	14. A Choice in Who We Fall For

**Chapter 14**

"_**I don't think we get a choice in who we fall for…I think we just do." **_

**~ Jodi Picoult, (My Sister's Keeper)**

* * *

As in all weekends, the common rooms were loud, buzzing with students talking and studying and having fun.

But their leisure time was interrupted around four in the afternoon, when each of the heads of house entered their appropriate common room.

Gryffindor fell silent as Professor McGonagall stepped in, grim and weary.

One student hurried upstairs to get the others so they did not miss the announcement.

"There has been another attack," she announced grimly. A hushed silence fell, before whispers and murmurs broke out, though the Head of Gryffindor silenced them quickly as she continued. "This time, aimed on a professor." Near the fire, the sixth year trio stilled, and Harry was pale. "Professor Potter has been poisoned. She is in the hospital wing at the moment."

"Is she alright?" squeaked a first year worriedly.

McGonagall nodded wearily. "She will be. For the next week, all Potions classes are henceforth, cancelled, though homework will not be excused. I expect you all to finish them anyways—_no_ excuses or detention everyday for a month with Mr. Filch."

"How is she?" asked a seventh year.

"Stable, but still asleep," McGonagall said, relief in her voice. "She was very close to death, but Professor Snape luckily had a bezoar. Madam Pomfrey and several others took her to the Hospital Wing from the staffroom immediately."

"I bet Snape poisoned her in the first place," muttered a fifth year sullenly.

"Fifteen points, Mr. Jones!" McGonagall snapped. "And detention with Professor Snape next week!

"To the rest of you, good day."

As she turned to leave, Harry stood, swiftly followed by Ron and Hermione.

"Professor—can we—?"

"Yes, Potter, come along," she nodded.

* * *

As they headed out the portrait, Ginny hopped up and joined the other three students, and no one said a word as she fell in stride beside Harry.

"…Severus got the bezoar down her throat and her breathing eased up a bit, just as the seizure had begun, though it was stopped before it got too serious," Madam Pomfrey was explaining to the students, "Albus, Minerva, Severus, and I got her to the Hospital Wing swiftly. The bezoar countered most of the poison, but its effects were very profound. The poison was very potent, and it is especially so for Civia because she's so small. She still has some of it in her bloodstream, too."

"Why can't you get it out?" Harry demanded, but his voice was quiet after being scolded by Hermione for being loud as they entered.

To their left, the svelte Potions Mistress was in a cot, pale and trembling, her hair wet with sweat. She was asleep, according to the matron, but not peacefully. Beneath her eyelids, her eyes were moving and flicking to and fro constantly. Her breathing was shallow, quick, and irregular, with her pulse visibly pounding in her neck, far too fast and irregular to be normal. In her tossing and turning, she had thrown the sheet off her body.

Madam Pomfrey gave him a sharp look. "Potter, this is obviously not some simple poison! We have no clue what it is! Don't you think I have someone working on it while I tend to Civia? Severus is working on an antidote as we speak!"

Suddenly, the Potions Mistress cried out unintelligibly, grabbing at the sheets as if searching for something.

"I've already given her a potion for the pain, but I don't dare do more," Poppy said to Minerva's worried look, with a tired, worried expression. "Severus is working on an antidote now."

The matron drew her wand and murmured something as she flicked it at the woman on the cot, who fell still and limp, and her body straightened on the cot.

"I can't let her keep thrashing about," she said to the students as she laid a wet rag on Civia's clammy, pale forehead. "She has a fever, and is having nightmares induced by the remnants of the poison."

She pulled the sheet up to her chin, patting her shoulder sadly.

"I don't know what will happen if Professor Snape can't brew an antidote, but I doubt she'll survive the night without it. It's preventing her organs from using oxygen, and it won't be long before it affects her brain."

They fell silent, until the Head of Gryffindor said, "You four should go to dinner. Should there be any change…I'll have Madam Pomfrey alert me to tell you, but you need to eat."

They didn't argue as she gave them a sad but stern look and all trailed out of the hospital wing, just in time to find Professor Snape hurrying past them, a vial clutched in one hand.

"Poppy!" he barked as he swept down the isle of the hospital wing.

"Severus—you finished—already?" she said, surprised.

The Potions Master snorted, holding out several vials from his pockets. "Of course. Here it is. Try this one vial for now, and another for every hour that passes until she is completely better."

As the matron began administering the potion, Minerva asked, "What poison was it, Severus?"

"Cyanide," he replied briskly. "A very high and concentrated dose was in a single sip of the wine. We were lucky to have access to a bezoar. In such a powerful poisoning, she might have died within two minutes of ingesting it."

There was a pause as Poppy finished. "I presume you'll be staying here for dinner, Severus?" He nodded silently. "Then at least summon a house-elf to bring you food. If there are any changes, send your patronus to me." She paused to make a few notes on a chart. "How could you tell?"

The Potions Master's eyes were on his friends pale, ill form as he replied, "She had a bitter almond smell to her breath, that was the key, but also the sudden collapse, the convulsions, the sudden illness."

"What was in the antidote?"

"Chizpurfle carapace, dittany, honeywater, wiggentree, nettle, unicorn hair, and peppermint—"

Before they said more, Civia was suddenly trembling again, restless in her bed as she tossed and turned and jerked. She visibly winced in pain and her hand was again grasping at the sheets desperately, repeatedly, searching. "_Sev!_"

He grasped her hand gently, calming her. Civia quieted and stilled, though still trembling and sweating terribly.

"We're leaving for the Great Hall, Severus," Minerva said softly before both women left the infirmary and left the pair in silence.

Much later than night, Severus was still there, still guarding his successor…his friend.

As the antidote helped her fight the cyanide in her veins, the antidote was not a gentle one. Her fever still raged, worse than before, and she was soaked with sweat. Physical contact—whether in general or with him—seemed to keep her from tossing and turning, though she still mumbled and cried out and trembled.

Nightmares seemed to plague her mind, with her crying out in pain or sadness, and sometimes begging—'no, not him—_not him_'—or calling out for people, such as her brother, sister in law, nephew, Albus, Minerva, or most often himself. At random intervals, he even saw a few tears escape her eyes.

* * *

It was almost one in the morning, but still Severus sat there, holding her clutching hand, giving her water or the antidote, or putting a rag on her sweaty forehead. She had calmed since then, and he was sleeping—well, as much sleeping as one could in a chair like this, more like dozing.

"Sev-rus?"

The croak roused him instantly. "Quiet for a moment," he instructed as he conjured a glass of water and gently helped her raise her head enough to gulp it down thirstily.

"What…what happened?" she whispered hoarsely.

"You were poisoned with Cyanide," Severus explained grimly, launching into the tale.

A harsh, scoffing sound escaped her dry lips at the end of it. "Of course…how mocking it is for a potions mistress to be poisoned…"

"It was not meant for you," Severus said gently in reply. "We both know who it was supposed to be."

She paused. "You did not drink the wine?" Worry swam in her gaze.

"No."

A shuddering breath escaped her lips in relief. "I could never forgive myself…" she paused, coughing, "…if you had.

"And I can never thank you enough."

The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor shifted a bit in his chair uncomfortably. "It was just luck that I had a bezoar," he lied smoothly. "Luck and Poppy's quick actions that saved you."

She snorted, though it caused her to cough. Severus helped her drink before she replied. "Bullocks. Poppy could never brew an antidote to save her own life." He did not speak, looking away.

Weakly, she raised a hand to his face and turned it towards her. "Severus."

"It…I…Well, one does such things for friends, does one not?" he said, his embarrassment only given away by the slightest pink tinge along his high cheekbones, visible only because of the moonlight coming in from a window.

She smiled. "Yes, one does. But…I am eternally grateful it was I that drank the wine instead of you, Severus. I would rather die than you have been poisoned as I had."

Civia's eyes closed, her breathing evening and deepening, signaling that she had slipped into sleep again, though she was peaceful this time.

Slowly, he raised her hand—which had never left his since he had sat down before dinner—to his lips and brushed them against the soft, delicate skin.

His words were lost on her, but perhaps that was how he wanted it.

"But I would rather die than any harm befall you, Civia."

* * *

The next day, before Civia woke, Severus left after Poppy arrived and went to his quarters to change and bathe.

But on his way to return, as he silently stalked through the halls, he came across a lone, blond-haired boy.

Severus silently swept behind him before pushing him to a wall, keeping the boy from escaping.

"Do you have any clue how stupid that was, Draco?" he hissed furiously. "How breathtakingly, astoundingly brainless and tactless?"

"What, Snape?" the Malfoy boy spat.

"Poisoning the elf-made wine Civia Potter bought originally intended for Dumbledore!" he spat, furious.

Malfoy's grey eyes glinted maliciously. "I heard she almost died, Snape. I think the Dark Lord will be pleased."

"No—he won't be," Snape warned dangerously. "He will be furious. Have you forgotten his order not to harm her—only capture her? Kill any other close ones of the bloody _Chosen One_'s, but _not_ her?"

"Why are you so angry?" Draco spat. "Mad that damaged your little toy, Snape?" As the Potions Master's grip on him tightened, the boy's eyes widened and a sly smirk slid onto his face. "That's it isn't it—you're fucking her aren't you, Snape?"

"I'm warning you, Draco—"

"—that's it though! You're mad because I hurt your little slut!"

"Draco," Snape said in a low, dangerously soft voice, fury plain to see, "If you harm another hair on her head, I will personally deliver you to the Dark Lord to deal with. He will not be pleased of you disobeying him."

"Fine!" the boy spat, shoving away his Head of House. "I'll never go near her again except in class, or her stuff or quarters. Happy?"

His only reply was the Potions Master stalking away, black cloak billowing in his wake.

Civia was awake when he returned, with a house elf taking away her breakfast tray as Poppy handed the Potions Mistress a goblet.

"Tincture of burdock," the matron explained to Severus as he approached and Civia gave her back the goblet.

"And essence of rue, I presume?" he said.

Civia nodded as she dutifully swallowed, but made a face at the taste. "When I'm well, we really need to work on improving the tastes of these things."

Severus did not reply for a moment. "When you are well," he agreed softly.

**

* * *

A/N: And the answer is….CYANIDE!**

**Congrats to those of you who got it right! **

**Cyanide is a very deadly poison and, in many cases, lethal. The symptoms Civia suffers from are very real. Cyanide removes cells' ability to use oxygen, which explains why our favorite OC felt like she could not breathe. **

**In the cases of severe ingestion, symptoms include: rapid pulse, shortness of breath, bitter almonds smell/taste on the breath, convulsions, respiratory distress, and seizures—all of which Civia suffered from.**

**Typically, a severe ingestion case will have a dramatic, rapid ****onset****, immediately affecting the heart and causing sudden collapse. It **_**can**_** also immediately affect the brain and cause a ****seizure**** or coma—the former of which affected Civia. **

**It's a terrible, painful way to die, but mercifully quick—like Severus said, you can die within two minutes of ingesting it.**

**If you're curious, read more about cyanide and other classic poisons on this website:**

**http:/ www . bbc . / dna / h2g2 / A4113983**

**Thanks! **

**Review!**


	15. Promises make Debt

**Chapter 15**

"_**Promises make debt, and debt makes promises." **_

**~Dutch Proverb**

* * *

Civia recovered swiftly, and was back to teaching within a month, to both her and her students' delight…though she was still in the infirmary for her birthday.

March twenty-seventh came without much fanfare, for which she was grateful. It was a bittersweet day—she was another year older and it was just another year added to the age that James never grew to. After the two had graduated, they had always celebrated their birthdays together, and the day just had too many memories for her to be truly happy.

Minerva and Albus both visited her that day, the former bringing Civia her owl post, full of cards from several Order members. Harry had stopped by before classes and given her a large bar of honeydukes chocolate and a card from him and his two friends, who had also tagged along.

Wonderful as it was to see Harry, she knew that she enjoyed another's visit even more.

By April, it was like she had never been poisoned, though Severus insisted on testing every one of her bottles of wine or anything else she might consume that she had in her possession or received.

One Saturday, about mid-April, she was heading out into the forest to harvest some potions ingredients—it was the season for harvesting English Primrose.

But as she headed to the edge of the forest, she found someone else heading into the forest as well.

"Hagrid!" she greeted. "How are you? I haven't seen you in the Great Hall the past few days…"

"Oh, 'llo Civia," he said. "'m fine. I bin in the forest, yeh know, visitin' Aragog."

"Aragog?" she echoed curiously. "Who is Aragog?"

"Oh, he's the acromantula in th' forest," Hagrid explained sadly, "I got 'im when I was in school…he's ill, yeh see…"

"Ill?" Civia exclaimed, "I might be able to find a few potions to help, if you'd like…"

"Yeh could?" Hagrid exclaimed in surprise and hope. "Tha'd be great!"

Civia smiled. "Of course. I'll run to my potions stores and grab a few and be back in five minutes!"

Precisely four minutes later, Civia was running back, with a messenger-bag at her side.

"Ready," she said to the half-giant, who was nearly thrice as tall as she.

They set off into the forest, walking for almost half an hour until they reached the web.

It was unlike anything Civia had ever seen. The web was immense, and she could not accurately guess its size. Monstrous spiders the size of carthorses crept along it, watching them curiously.

They finally reached the middle of the domed web, where the largest acromantula yet—the size of a small elephant—sat. It was old, she could tell by the gray in the black of its body. Each of its eyes was milky white—blind.

"Men," clicked the acromantula as they approached.

"Hagrid?" the immense spider asked, its voice hoarse and weak.

"'llo Aragog," greeted Hagrid. "I brough' a friend who migh' be able t' help yeh."

"Hello, Aragog," Civia said, friendly, but soft. "I'm Civia, the Potions Mistress at the school. I brought a few potions I made that should help you get well."

Aragog was hesitant to trust Civia, but trusted her because Hagrid did. He allowed her to give him the potions with a promise to supply Hagrid with more to bring until the spider was well again.

The spider had not complained about the taste of the Invigoration Draught, Vitamix Potion, or the Pain-Relief Potion, which was better than when she gave them to humans.

As Hagrid bid the acromantula good-bye, the spider addressed her. "I am in your debt, Potions Mistress. I can feel your potions giving me strength already. Should you ever need assistance, do not be afraid to come and ask Aragog of the spiders."

"Thank you," she replied, getting a feeling that debt may come in handy in the future. "I hope you get well. If you need something stronger, just tell Hagrid to pass it on to me."

Later that evening, while brewing with Severus, she explained what had happened.

"I might come in handy for Aragog to be in your debt if the Dark Lord infiltrates Hogwarts to confront Albus and Potter," Severus sneered the surname, "It will be advantageous to have them on our side."

"Then you think he will bring the 'final battle' to Hogwarts too?" she asked softly.

He nodded grimly. "Yes. And we had best prepare for the brunt of it while we can."

* * *

**A/N: Okay, this is virtually the LAST short chapter I have. If any other the others are short, they are very fast-paced, though I'm not telling which are in the romance department or in the war. **

**Only 5-6 more chapters. **

**Prepare yourself...**

**AND REVIEW  
**


	16. Nothing Would Ever Compare

**Chapter 16**

_**"And when her lips met mine, I knew that I could live to be a hundred and visit every country in the world, but nothing would ever compare to that single moment when I first kissed the girl of my dreams and knew that my love would last forever."  
**_**— ****Nicholas Sparks**** (****Dear John****)**

* * *

Three very important things happened in May.

The first was, in early May, Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley were officially a couple. Civia was delighted, knowing their strong feelings for each other. Minerva was also quite cheerful and supportive about it. Severus simply told her he had no comment.

By mid-May, things were well in the castle—no attacks on the students for now, and Civia and Severus were getting on well. But as in all friendships, they had small fights and arguments.

* * *

One such argument—their biggest and worst yet happened one evening in May…

"…Harry did _what?_"

"He used a dark curse on Mr. Malfoy in the abandoned girl's lavatory," Severus explained, mustering all the patience he could. "_Sectumsempra_," he explained.

"And where did he learn that?" she demanded rhetorically, stomping around their laboratory.

Severus sneered at the thought of Potter. "I suspect he found my old Potions textbook and has been using to cheat in your class."

Civia rounded on him, storming over. "And where did you leave that laying around?"

"I left it in the student cupboard in the potions classroom," he said, clearly annoyed, as he was during any discussion including the topic of her nephew.

"Why did you do that, especially with such a spell inside?" she demanded. "Malfoy could have died because of that spell! Who knows who else might have if it had fallen into the wrong hands!"

"Are you saying this is my fault?" he asked in a low, dangerous tone.

Her eyes flashed to his. "Yes, I am! You created that bloody spell, didn't you?"

"At the time, I had an excellent reason—your brother!" he spat, "That arrogant, bullying little prick of a swine!"

"Don't call my brother a swine!" she yelled, face flushed in reply. "He may have been a bully but he was a good man!"

"Oh, _a good man_ was he?" Severus spat. "Would a good man attack another boy, four against one, disarmed and without any allies?"

"Don't you think I know how he was?" she lashed out sharply. "Who do you think was used for practice for him before he got to you? Who do you think he practiced on at home, during the summer—with no teachers around and only his biased, blind parents who only saw him as a perfect angel! Who do you think he terrorized before Hogwarts—before you?" she spat, tears coming to her eyes at the memories—ever since she could remember…James terrorizing her, even with accidental magic…

She felt the tears coming at the harsh reminder of James in his early years, and tried fruitlessly to stop the wetness in her eyes. She refused to let him see her cry—he would mock her, and she didn't want him to ridicule her. Civia turned to storm out of the lab, to her chambers where she could cry in peace…

But was stopped as something grasped her wrist and pulled her back.

"Let me go, Severus," she said coldly, trying to pull her wrist free of his iron grasp, though it was useless. While magically strong, she was weaker than a first year physically.

"You did not let me run away on New Year's," he said stoically, "so I will not let you run now."

"Let me go, _now_, Severus!" she yelled, trying to struggle free. "We know how this argument would end anyways! James was an arrogant prick, and we both know it! But he grew out of it when he started dating Lily! But before he was a terrible bully to us both, but he isn't to blame for this, Severus! You shouldn't have left that book! It could have—"

Later, Severus would think of many reasons why he did it, the foremost being to make her quit babbling, but he didn't really know why he did it as he tugged her tiny frame to him.

His other hand slipped into her raven hair, gently but quickly tilting her head up, adjusting the angle. Civia's startled amethyst eyes met his intense sable gaze as his lips claimed hers with his own.

The kiss was not a slow and gentle one. It was fierce and passionate, with his lips devouring her own. His hands were tangled in her hair, cradling her head as they tilted her head up to allow him to deepen the kiss. She parted her lips, and her tongue slipped out to meet his as they met and slowly tangled, in bliss.

When they separated after—well, she didn't know how long—they paused before pulling away from one another, pausing as Civia rested her head on his chest, reluctantly pulling her hands from where they'd tangled frantically into his hair.

Neither spoke for a long minute before Severus straightened his robes and left silently, robes billowing dramatically in his wake.

**

* * *

AN: Dedicated to my friend ZoeyAradiaMystique, who gave me this idea and is my wonderful Beta!**

**Tell me what you think about me writing romance-y, mushy, flushy crap. Ugh. I hate it. **

**I can't FREAKIN' WAIT UNTIL THE BATTLE! **

**I love violence. **

**If you can't tell.**

**ReViEw!  
**


	17. Flying

**Chapter 17**

"_**When true love comes, it is like flying upon wings above all else on the ground."**_

**~ Unknown**

* * *

Neither Severus nor Civia brought up their kiss for more than a week, until the last Saturday in May. Neither Potions Masters had any detentions or any other work to do.

Civia knew this as she knocked on his office door before opening Severus' office door and walking in.

He was sitting behind his desk, scribbling away on a parchment before he looked up and set his eagle feather quill down. "Civia," he greeted, only a hint of hesitancy in his tone.

"Severus, not busy, I hope?" she inquired.

He shook his head, and Civia smiled in return. "Good. I've found a patch of Maybloom that's blooming and was going to harvest some today. Would you be interested in joining me?"

"All day?" he asked curiously, and she nodded. He replied, "Of course. Anything to spend a day away from all these dunderheads…"

Civia flashed him a smile. "Wonderful. I'll meet you in half an hour in the Entrance Hall—bring gloves and such. I'll grab my own and stop by the kitchen to ask the elves to pack us a lunch! It's a date!"

They arrived with a sharp crack in the meadow, of towards the side, near the trees.

The meadow was filled with snow white flowers with wide, pointed petals that drooped towards the ground. In the trees surrounding them, brilliant purple flowers on twisting, trailing vines that covered the trees.

"I've never seen so much Maybloom in one place," Severus murmured, surprised.

Civia smiled. "I found it a few years ago. No one come here, as far as I know, except myself."

"You brought gloves and something to put the cuttings in?" he asked.

The Potions Mistress nodded. "Of course," she paused, pulling out a shrunken object from the large one on her arm. With a flick of her hand, the basket grew to its normal size, and Civia pulled her gloves from within it, as well as a silver knife. Severus pulled out the same from his frock coat pocket.

Maybloom was a very rare flowering magical plant. It was unusually sensitive to oils from human skin, and when it came in contact with the oils, the flowers would wither and the magical properties that made it so valuable were rendered useless—hence why gloves were mandatory for handling it.

After several hours of slowly and methodically harvesting the rare plant, Civia called for lunch and they started on the feast the house elves had packed.

"I thought wisteria was only native to North America and Asia," Severus said off-handedly as Civia vanished their trash.

Civia shrugged, gazing admiringly at the flora far above in the trees. "Someone must have planted it here once and I guess it flourished…I'm glad. I love wisteria."

He nodded before asking, "So other than potions and wine, what else do you do in your free time? You can't simply spend all your time doing marking and research."

"Isn't that what you do?" she asked cheekily before growing thoughtful, laying back in the grass. "Mm…I mostly read. Before coming back to Hogwarts, I used to cook a lot…I was fairly good, but there isn't much of a reason to cook now. I like to fly, now and again, just to relieve some stress…On the appropriate occasions, I admit I enjoy dancing—classical dance, mind you," she added.

"Like waltzing?" he inquired idly, causing her to chuckle and nod. "But are you any good?" he wondered, feigning innocence.

Rolling her eyes but smiling, Civia gave him a playful whap on the arm. "Of course I am!"

"Care to prove it, madam?" Severus asked, smirking softly.

She gave him a surprised but sly smile. "Are you asking me to dance, Severus?"

"I believe I am, Civia," the Potions Master replied smoothly, standing and offering her a hand. Giving a brilliant, warm smile, Civia took it and allowed him to pull her to her feet before taking her other hand and placing it on his shoulder. He gently placed his hand on the curve of her waist.

Slowly they began dancing through the meadow, avoiding the Maybloom as they did.

As they slowly waltzed, Civia noted to herself that Severus had forgone his almost constant layer of robes, and had a few buttons on his frock coat undone, revealing the graceful, pale column of his throat. It was touching to know that, with her, he was comfortable enough to remove a couple of his many layers—his layers being both his clothing layers and the masks he put up to push people away.

"Do you trust me?" he asked softly. Her eyes flew back to his. "Of course," Civia said immediately, without thought. Severus stopped their dance, but did not release her. "Stand on my feet."

She carefully did as he said, though her face blushed brilliantly red at how close they were. "Why?" Civia asked, looking back to his obsidian eyes. There was a pleasant breeze around them before he simply said, "Look." She glanced around, and let out a shriek of surprise, wrapping her arms around Severus tightly. "What in the bloody hell?" she gasped, terrified.

"It's okay, Civia," the DADA professor said softly.

"How in the hell can you fly?" she asked, still clinging to him.

With her head pressed closely to his chest, she felt a rumble from his chest as he chuckled. "The Dark Lord taught me," he said in a regretful tone. "But it is not dark magic—merely a long-forgotten art."

"Can you teach me?" she asked, looking up at him shyly through.

Severus looked down at the Potions Mistress, his closest, dearest friend. Somehow, in nine months' time, she had grown closer than anyone else in his life, perhaps even more than Lily. As she peered up at him with her piercing eyes through her lashes, shyly hopeful, he could only nod softly.

A bright, delighted smile broke on her face.

* * *

"Concentrate, Civia," said Severus silkily, for the third time, "But not just on the thought of your body moving into the air. Concentrate on the air surrounding yourself, moving below you as your body rises."

Civia felt a sudden gust of wind, and Severus did not speak for a moment. Opening her eyes, she let out a shriek of surprise upon seeing that she had been successful, her body having risen far above the tree tops that surrounded the clearing.

Having lost her focus, Civia plummeted to the ground. Her eyes snapped shut in fear—

And then, strong arms wrapped around her middle, pulling her against a warm, strong chest. Opening her eyes, she saw Severus smiling in amusement—well, smiling as much as he did—as he looked down at her in his arms.

"You did it," he said, pride in his voice.

"I did," she whispered, their eyes locked: obsidian and amethyst boring into each other.

Her grip around his chest tightened when she looked down. "I have you," he whispered, holding her closer against his chest. "I won't let you fall, Civia."

"I know. I trust you." she said, her eyes moving back to his face.

And, she realized, she did. She trusted him implicitly. But it was more than that, more than letting him literally hold her life in his hands, as he was now. It was a trust so ingrained that if, at this moment, he had said, 'Jump,' she would not had questioned him.

Then, with a drop of jaw, she suddenly realized why. Why she trusted him more than anyone else she knew, why she loved this, why she enjoyed being alone with him—whether it was brewing, collecting ingredients, dancing, or even flying as they were now.

With the skip of a heartbeat and a flush upon her pale cheeks, Civia thought, _I love him_…

And she knew it was true, in her heart of hearts.

She loved him, all of him—his low, silky voice; his graceful, long-fingered hands; the way he swooped around the school, but glided in the potions lab; even his thin, greasy, silky sable hair and large Romanesque nose; his the way he would snarl at one second, but then look at her with such tenderness and care; his witty, sarcastic humor; the gentle manner in which he held her, secure but soft as if afraid to hurt her; the way he challenged her mentally; the way he understood her like no other.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

Her eyes flew back to his, but she nodded. "Yes. I'm sorry. I was just…thinking…"

"What about?"

Civia bit her lip, flushing before murmuring, "You."

His eyebrows rose. "Nothing too bad I hope," he murmured.

"Never," she replied truthfully, and smiled widely. "I knew your teaching skills extended to more than just Potions and Defense."

He snorted. "I'm sure students agree with you."

"Oh, who cares what they think," she said, rolling her eyes. "I think you'd be an excellent teacher at anything."

"I highly doubt that."

Civia sighed. "Oh, just hush up already."

And then she kissed him.

It was not like their last. Their lips were slow and gentle, but she could sense more emotion in it than their last. As her hands tangled in his hair, Severus grabbed her around the waist and pulled her body flush against his. To Civia, it seemed like several minutes of this before she felt him testing the waters for deepening the kiss. She tilted her head and opened her lips, her own tongue darting out to meet his own, encouraging him. They both deepened the kiss, their tongues dancing together, and continued kissing for what may have been several sunlit days, as far as Civia was concerned. She had never been kissed like that, so passionately, so thoroughly…

When they separated, they were both breathing heavily, faces flushed, lips swollen. Carefully, Civia removed her arms from around his neck as he did the same for his arms that had been wrapped around her waist.

How odd it was, she thought as she sat down amidst the Maybloom, how different it was now in comparison to the beginning of the school year. In all her wildest imaginings, she would have never placed her here, having just snogged with Severus Snape.

No. 'Snog' seemed so childish. And Severus Snape was anything but childish.

But holy crap…the man could snog better than she imagined possible.

"We should…we should probably be getting back," the DADA teacher said awkwardly.

Civia gave him an annoyed look before holding a hand out toward him. He took it, and pulled her to her feet. "Thank you," she said with a smile to him before gathering the basket of Maybloom cuttings.

Severus nodded, offering her his arm, which she accepted, before they apparated to Hogwarts.

As they walked to the castle, Civia looked to her companion—her dearest and closest friend and the one she loved—and told him, "Severus, I think I…" her voice trailed off, the words dying on her tongue. "I mean….Does this mean we're…?"

The Potions Master stopped, and she did so as well at his side. He stared at her, as if deep in thought. "Civia…it is not safe for you—"

"Bullshit," she interrupted, then flushed. "Sorry. But I'm Harry Potter's aunt and in the Order—you and I both know I'm not safe as it is. Please Sev, act for yourself and not for the war—do want to—that is, would you…?"

His gaze didn't really soften, but there was something tender in his eyes as he pulled her to him and gently placed his arms around her waist. Surprised, she returned the embrace, resting her head above his heart and inhaling his scent.

Suddenly, she paused, silently sniffing again, taking in his scent…and remembered it from before—a bizarre but enticing mixture of new parchment, fresh sandalwood, and a peculiar herbal scent that was purely Severus…

Amortentia. That was what it had smelled like, even then…like him…

"Civia."

His silky voice was soft, and she looked up to him, meeting his deep, ebony eyes as he tilted his head down and captured her lips in a searing kiss. Minutes later, they surfaced for air, but their hands did not move from around each other and tangled in the other's hair.

"I'll…take that as a yes, then?" asked Civia breathlessly, almost glowing in delight.

Severus nodded, but replied, "But no one can know. I won't even risk the chance of your life being in danger because of us."

"So we will act normal, Sev?" she asked, as they began walking back to the castle, arm in arm. "See each other during meals and afterwards go to the potions lab to brew?"

"If it is agreeable to you, Civia."

The Potions Mistress nodded. "Though you might have to stay longer than before."

He nodded. "That is acceptable." A brilliant smile covered her face as he escorted her to her quarters. When they reached her door, he released her arm, but took her hand.

"I shall see you at dinner," Severus said, before softly kissing the back of her hand and walking to his own quarters.

And, if students had taken care to notice him, they might have seen a hint of a content smile on his lips.

* * *

**Awwwwwwwww!**

**Aren't they nauseatingly, sickeningly, barf-inducing-ly sweet?Jeez. They're sweeter than that bowlful of Halloween candy I ate today... bleh...**

**SO-There you are: Civia is already in love with Severus. And Severus is lookin' a lot like he loves her too. Now, only 4 more chapters after this.  
**

**SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. Happy Halloween to you all!Just because of the holiday, you got 2 chapters.  
**

**ALSO: FOR MY FELLOW NaNoWriMo WRITERS: Good luck to you all! For NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month, where nerds try to write a novel of at least 50,000 words in 30 days), I'm working on a new Fanfic. It's about ANOTHER OC...this one a spy. It'll probably end up as SSOC too...**

**Wish me luck. I might not update much in November, depending on how quickly I write...**

**GOOD LUCK TO NANOWRIMO WRITERS!  
**


	18. More Wonderful than I Ever Imagined

**Chapter 18**

_**"I held her close to me with my eyes closed, wondering if anything in my life had ever been this perfect and knowing at the same time that it hadn't. I was in love, and the feeling was even more wonderful than I ever imagined it could be." **_**  
— ****Nicholas Sparks**** (****A Walk to Remember****)**

_**"She was saying goodbye and she didn't even know it." ****– **_**The Book Thief by Markus Zusak**

* * *

"…You refuse to tell me everything, yet you expect that small service of me!" snarled Severus, and real anger flared in his thin face now. "You take a great deal for granted, Dumbledore! Perhaps I have changed my mind!"

"You gave me your word, Severus. And while we are talking about services you owe me, I thought you agreed to keep a close eye on our young Slytherin friend?" Albus replied steadily.

The Potions Master looked angry, mutinous, and the Headmaster sighed.

"Come to my office tonight, Severus, at eleven, and you shall not complain that I have no confidence in you…"

"Not at eleven," Severus said.

"You have plans?" asked Albus curiously, but not insultingly.

The Potions Master glowered for a moment before looking out the window. "Civia," he explained, his voice softer, quieter.

"Ah, of course," Albus said in reply with a smile. "I noticed you two were particularly close." He paused, and Severus did not reply, so he continued. "Was your trip harvesting Maybloom successful?"

Severus was silent for a moment. "More than expected," he murmured softly, mind on his companion rather than the trip, but then looked back to his current company. "After dinner?"

"Of course, Severus," Albus agreed with an amused but relieved smile. "I wouldn't want to keep you from Civia…"

* * *

As Civia finished her steak and kidney pie at dinner, Severus looked to her and softly told her, "I'll be late to the lab; Albus wants to speak with me after dinner."

She was surprised, of course, but nodded. "Alright. I will leave the door unlocked and finish the Polyjuice."

Three hours later, it was growing late and she had already finished, bottled, and packaged the Polyjuice.

Severus had not come yet, and Civia was worried. She'd tried reading to distract herself, but the book, on little known potions dating back from the dark ages, lay forgotten in her lap.

Then, finally, just after the clock finished striking nine, the door opened and Severus strode in.

"Oh, finally!" Civia exclaimed, relieved, tossing the book aside as she jumped up and embraced him. "I thought something was wrong!"

"No," he replied wearily, leading them both to the sofa. "Nothing yet."

She studied him, taking in the tired demeanor and the look on his face of both worry and sadness. "What did Albus want to talk with you about?" she asked, sitting down next to him and folding her feet under her as she leaned against him.

"Nothing of importance," he replied.

She knew this was a lie, but did not press upon the issue. "Alright," Civia replied, accepting it, and changed the subject. "Have you seen the new _Practical Potioneer_?"

They talked into the night, sitting side by side on the couch, until at one point they fell silent, both staring into the fire that lit and warmed the room from the hearth. Then, both slipped into sleep.

* * *

Severus was woken a couple hours later by a scream.

Beside him, Civia was thrashing in her sleep, crying out. "…no! No—not him, please! No! Severus—" She screamed again, though it dissolved into a sob.

"Civia—" he said, trying to wake her.

She was crying, sobbing, crying out still, eyes moving madly under her closed lids. "No—Severus! _Sev_—I love you—no, Severus! Leave Severus alone…no! Don't hurt him! Anyone else—take me instead—"

"Civia!" he exclaimed, grabbing her by her shoulders and shaking her carefully.

Her eyes fluttered open, found him, and then she was crying for real, arms encircling around his chest.

"It's alright," he said, a bit awkwardly, returning the embrace. "It's alright, Civia, it was just a nightmare. No one will hurt you while I'm around."

She sniffled, and looked up at him. "That's just it though. Voldemort wasn't hurting me—he was hurting you."

Severus stared at her for the longest moment as she dried her eyes, but then tightened his embrace around her, comforting her. When she was calmed, he made a movement to stand, but she grasped his arm and pulled him back. "Stay, please, Sev."

The Potions Master softened, as he almost always did when she used his nickname. "Alright…here?"

She flushed, but nodded. "It's this or the bed…"

Carefully, he lifted her from her spot on the sofa, swung his legs up in her spot, and settled her half in his lap as he leaned against the armrest. Civia leaned back, resting her head on his chest behind her as his arms wrapped around her middle and he buried his face in her hair, inhaling her scent—the smell he got from Amortentia: wisteria flowers, herbs, and new books.

Slowly, both fell asleep, looking very much like a couple in love.

But even in his dreams, Civia's words echoed back to him.

"_I love you…"_

_

* * *

_

**Go ahead and say it: _Awww..._**

**Now, it gears up next chapter, with only 2 left after it. SO, I want 60 reviews before I update. Yeah, I'm greedy. Whatever. We've got about 50 now, so...REVIEW! Because:**

**reviews = love**

**REVIEW!**

**l  
V  
**


	19. Stability

**Chapter 19**

"_**Two thousand years ago the night sky looked completely different, and so when you get right down to it, the Greek conceptions of star signs as related to birth dates are grossly inaccurate for today's day and age. It's called the Line of Procession: back then the sun didn't set in Taurus, but in Gemini. A September 24 birthday didn't mean you were a Libra, but a Virgo. And there was a thirteenth zodiac constellation, Ophichus and the Serpent Bearer, which rose between Sagittarius and Scorpio for only four days. The reason it's all off kilter? The earth's axis wobbles. **_

_**"Life isn't nearly as stable as we want it to be." **_

**~Jodi Picoult, My Sister's Keeper**

* * *

May continued, and soon waned into June. Civia was at her happiest, with her flourishing relationship with Severus, and her closeness to her nephew.

Students were either slacking because of the end of the year, or scrambling for exams. Teachers were simply anxious for break.

Civia wasn't sure if she was anxious for or dreading break—then again, it was probably because she didn't know Severus' plans for summer…

The two Potions Masters had succeeded in keeping their relationship clandestine. The relationship itself was wonderful. Civia had never expected or hoped to find such wonderful companionship and love in another.

She sighed to herself, trying to snap herself from her daydream as she roamed about the castle, and found herself heading to the deserted Entrance Hall. After climbing the stairs, she was surprised to find Albus and Harry speaking in serious, urgent tones.

"…Very good—ah, Civia!"

She nodded in greeting, eyes sweeping over their appearances.

"You're going to get one?" she asked apprehensively, referring to Horcruxes. Both nodded. "The cave?" she asked.

"The cave," Albus repeated in confirmation.

She grimaced. She'd helped him detect spells inside it. She knew the boat could only have one of-age witch or wizard in it. Civia dug in her pocket for a moment, before pulling out two vials. "Take these then."

Harry examined one then looked to her, eyebrows furrowed. "Felix?"

She nodded, giving the other to the Headmaster, who said, "Thank you, Civia. Minerva knows we will be leaving, and the other Heads of House know I am leaving but not with Harry. Watch over Hogwarts in my absence, Civia."

She bowed her head in respect. "With my very life."

Without letting him try to evade it, Civia pulled Harry into a hug, trying to smooth out the messy hair in worry. "Be safe, Harry. I swear if either of you get hurt or killed, I'll hunt you down and bring you back from the dead if I have to just so I can kill you!"

"Counterproductive, isn't it?" Harry asked, grinning.

She scowled. "Not the point. The point is, don't get hurt, Harry. Be safe, and listen to Albus for me. Watch your back."

She grasped the Headmaster's good hand and told him, "Be careful, Albus. You know how Voldemort will have set this up."

He nodded and gave her a kind smile. "Remember one thing for me: nothing is ever as it seems."

Civia's eyebrows knit together in confusion. "What?"

"You'll understand later," he said cryptically.

"Goodbye, and good luck," she bid them, and they slipped out the front doors.

* * *

"_Death Eaters in the castle, near the Astronomy Tower! Civia, get Severus and come quickly!_"

The words from Minerva's Patronus sent chills down her spine as she transformed and soared, as fast as her wings could carry her, to Severus' chambers. She changed back, before she reached his door, but was running as soon as her feet touched the ground, and barged in.

"Severus!" she exclaimed, "Death Eaters in the castle!"

His head snapped up from the essays on his desk to her. "What? Where?"

"The Astronomy Tower!" she replied hurriedly, "Minerva sent me to get you! Albus and Harry are out of the castle. Draco Malfoy led the Death Eaters in from the Room of Requirement!"

"Civia, please," he said urgently, coming to her side, "Don't fight."

Her eyes blazed with determination. "Severus, you know I will and to the death, especially when the lives of my friends, colleagues, and students are in danger!" His eyes softened and he swiftly pulled something from his pocket in his cloak. "Then take this."

The Potions Master pushed a bottle into her hands and she looked down, to see a molten gold looking potion—just like she had given Albus and Harry. But as she did so, he murmured, with a hint of pain in his voice, "_Stupefy._"

She went limp, but with the bottle of Felix Felicis clutched in her hands. Civia started to fall, though Severus caught her.

"Forgive me," he murmured, and kissed her gently, swiftly on the lips, before laying her on the ground and rushing out of the office.

However, just as he passed the threshold, Civia broke the spell and stood hurriedly, but before she could even move to the door, Hermione and Luna burst into the room. "Professor!" exclaimed Hermione, hurrying to her side. "Are you alright? Professor Snape said you collapsed!"

"I'm fine," she said, and paused her eyes sliding over them. "You've had some Felix Felicis, I see." Hermione looked surprised, but Luna only nodded serenely. Civia nodded, and uncapped the vial and downing the contents.

"Hurry now! The battle has already started, near the Astronomy Tower!"

With that, Civia changed again into an owl and took off through the castle, a furious, screeching call echoing in her wake.

The battle was terrible but just beginning. In the fray, Civia saw many faces she recognized—Minerva, Remus, Tonks, Bill, and several students—Ron, Neville, Ginny—

Then there was the Death Eaters. She knew them all, but didn't stop to take role.

With a flourish, Civia dived in front of a huge blond man, who was attempting to curse Minerva, who had her back turned. She transformed in time and landed softly, soundlessly on the ground, a spell already flying from her wand. With a snarl, the Death Eater barely dodged and rushed in to retaliate. Behind her, Civia heard Hermione and Luna join the skirmish.

Soon enough, she was dueling four Death Eaters at once, who were all struggling against a single witch.

While she was a Potions Mistress, that was not her only passion—she was an avid duelist, and quite a powerful one. She was a dueling champion, after all. But like Potions, she excelled in dueling.

And also as in Potions, some of the best were born, and some were made. In both, Civia was born with the talent and power—you could see it simply by observing.

Though not what one would normally call beautiful, her underlying beauty became more pronounced when she was dueling or brewing.

She was grace and fluidity in its highest form as she lithely leapt and spun and dodged and cast, making it look like an intricate dance to which no one could hear the music to but her. Atypically, she wasn't wearing her outer robes, several of the buttons of her frock coat had come undone or had been cut off by a stray spell she'd barely dodged, revealing hints of the stark white blouse under. As she dodged and spun, her midnight blue skirt flared and spun around her legs, falling all the way to her ankles. Her messy, inky curls had come down long ago from its knot on the back of her head, and were flowing freely behind her, like a banner, twisting and curling, shining like a raven's wing.

Tiny and petite as she was, Civia was not an intimidating person, until she had a wand in hand, dueling. What she lacked in size was multiplied in her magical abilities.

The Death Eaters knew it, and feared it.


	20. Hand of Sorrow

**Chapter 20**

"_**Please forgive me for the sorrow,  
For leaving you in fear  
For the dreams we had to silence,  
That's all they'll ever be…"**_

**~ "Hand of Sorrow", Within Temptation**

* * *

Civia's heart leapt to her throat when more Death Eaters descended from the Astronomy Tower, running, fleeing—

With Severus at their head.

The Potions Master paused, pushing the others forward as he yelled to the other Death Eaters "It's over, time to go!" The dark wizards attempted to follow, but were stuck dueling the Order…

And then another appeared from the tower—Harry, hurtling after Severus, Draco, and the others, tears in his eyes. But as he attempted to follow, one Death Eater detached himself from the fray and flew towards him.

Vaguely, Civia realized she had screamed Harry's name before she flicked her wand, sending Fenrir Greyback flying into the wall, away from her nephew, who ran even faster…

As she finally knocked her opponent unconscious, the Potions Mistress hurtled after the two who meant the most to her—Severus, _her_ Severus, and dear Harry…

Harry was meters ahead of her, but she followed him at a surprising pace for one so petite, though never quite able to catch up with him…

Then she reached the Entrance Hall, after running past a few befuddled students, but slipped as she ran—she couldn't tell whether from the blood smeared on the floor, or the rubies from the shattered Gryffindor hourglass.

Far ahead, Harry was screaming curses, desperation in his voice.

Finally, she saw them—Harry, on his back, on the slope towards Severus and the other Death Eaters, who had lit Hagrid's hut aflame.

"…dare use my own spells against me, Potter? It was I who invented them—I, the Half-Blood Prince! And you'd turn my inventions on me, like your filthy father, would you? I don't think so…_no!_"

Harry had dived for his wand, but Severus hexed it away.

"Harry!" she yelled as he said something lowly to Snape, who was mere feet from him…

Both wizards' heads had shot up at her scream, as Harry dived for his wand yet again, and found it, shooting a spell at his teacher.

"_SEVERUS!"_

But the wizard parried the spell, sending the student's wand flying again. Then Severus met her eyes for a moment—with such sorrow and regret in his gaze her heart ached…

And then he turned and fled, following the other Death Eaters.

Civia reached Harry then, standing behind him as they both watched him depart and disapparate…

Her exhaustion caught up with her in an instant, and her knees buckled as she slipped to the ground…

Her last thought was a prayer than Severus was alright…

* * *

Later, after Civia woke in the infirmary, and she joined the others grouped around Bill's cot, nothing could have prepared her for the first words she heard from her nephew's mouth.

"Snape killed Dumbledore."

Then…Civia collapsed to the floor as the world faded into darkness...

As she slipped away in another faint, she felt her heart shatter, and knew her world would never be the same again.


	21. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

**"When I look in the mirror, I know I'm looking at someone who isn't sure she deserves to be loved at all." - Nicholas Sparks (Dear John)**

**"You have to love something before you can hate it." — Nicholas Sparks (The Last Song)**

**"That's the sort of thing I'll never know, or comprehend—what humans are capable of." – The Book Thief by Markus Zusak**

* * *

The sun cast warmth upon her pale skin as she stood before the pristine white marble tomb. A warm, pleasant breeze ruffled her raven ringlets, blowing strands into her thin, pale face, though she quickly brushed them behind her ear. The grass seemed to ripple in the breeze, which brought the sweet scent of flowers wafting to her nose.

It was a perfect June day…but it seemed to lack all the warmth and happiness it should have seeped her with.

To anyone else, it would have been a beautiful day.

It would have been for Civia, too…had she not been standing before Albus' grave.

She had just been released from the Infirmary. Poppy, Harry, and Ginny had helped her to the funeral the day before, though the nurse had immediately escorted her back to the hospital wing as soon as it was over.

The Potions Mistress had not been cursed, or any such thing one might have expected. It was shock, according to Poppy's diagnosis. Not electrical shock, but rather simply emotional shock—the shock of Severus' betrayal and Albus' death. Even days after the battle, Civia could not accept the fact that her Severus had betrayed them, because she had known him, really known him.

She knew and recognized every trait in his personality, every smirk to his face, every rare smile or laugh he gave. He would act so cold and harsh and strong, but it was to protect himself. He acted so strong, so brave to hide his vulnerable heart. He was so intelligent, so witty and sharp, shown veiled in sarcasm and sharp remarks.

But he was a murderer.

But it didn't make sense in Civia's mind. It was Draco, this year, who had been so intent on murder…the murder of Albus…so intent he nearly killed Katie and herself earlier. She had known he wouldn't have been able to do it. While determined, Draco was not a killer—sure, he wasn't a saint but he wasn't a true Death Eater.

And Severus…her Severus…_No._ He murdered Albus…he wasn't hers anymore.

He was Voldemort's now.

Then it hit her that, he never really had been hers. Snape had given her the delusion of love, while tricking her all the same. Her love had not changed the fact that he had killed the man that—she thought—had been a father to both of them.

Civia was as alone as she had been a year ago…but without even Albus now.

Her fingertips brushed against the cool stone of the tomb. "I'm so sorry, Albus," she whispered.

"Goodbye."

With one last mournful glance, she turned away from the grave of Albus Dumbledore and headed back towards the castle.

At the threshold of the castle, she paused, her hand coming to rest on the wall near her.

Severus may be lost to be forever, but she still had Harry, and one last golden day with Harry to enjoy before the summer began, and this ended.

It was an end of an era, for both Civia and the Wizarding World. Albus was dead and gone, leaving the Wizarding World to defend itself. And for Civia…it was the end of her miniscule year of, what she thought was, love.

She did not have Severus anymore…and her heart ached at the thought, but Civia knew she could survive it. Voldemort was rising quickly, but the real war was only just beginning now. The Potions Mistress, as she turned back to look at the beautiful grave of her friend and the sparkling lake, spoke softly to herself.

"Severus is a traitor, and Voldemort is rising. The real war is only just beginning…but we can win it," Civia paused, with a tortured expression, "no matter my broken heart…"

…_Even though said heart still belonged to Severus._

**End of "The Tale of Civia Potter"**

**And Part One of the Civia Series**

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* * *

**

**So, this is the end FOR NOW. I'll post Part Two in a few days or a week at most, I hope. Part Two will be titled:**

**"The Tale of Civia Snape"**

**(grin) Tell me what you think about THAT hint. **

**ALSO- Part Two will be considerably longer, as it includes the Deathly Hallows and a long epilogue. I finished it in September, mind you. So you've gotta meet the review quota for me to update**

**BTW- For my fellow NaNoWriMo nerds, I SUCCEEDED! I wrote 50,000 words in November in time for the deadline. It'll be my next HP fanfic-also SSOC, though its about a new character-a spy for the Order, working alongside Severus. If you can't tell, I just love Snape. **

**NOW, thanks to my real life friends and betas:**

**ZoeyAradiaMystique (my BFF and main Beta, who mostly checked for grammar and begged me to write quicker ;), Evangilena Night, and MarvelousMonstrosity. You three rock! **

**Finally, thank you all, my readers! Love you all!  
**


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